


Into the Pensieve

by onlykatelyn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Hogwarts, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 19:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 63,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19116538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlykatelyn/pseuds/onlykatelyn
Summary: Harry Potter was confused. He was a lot of things:  fearless, heroic, genuine... but he was definitely not gay. And when none other than Draco Malfoy decided to call him such, things became heated.They’re now forced to spend detention in each other’s presence sorting and reviewing memories for Dumbledore. Unexpectedly, the punishment turns into a wild ride that leaves Harry breathless, reeling, and questioning everything.From the Marauders, to the romance between Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, to trials of morality and standing against everything someone was raised to be, even to Voldemort himself, Harry learns that memories can change anything about someone. Even if that person is his sworn enemy.Excerpt:Suddenly, everything froze. There it was, dancing on Malfoy’s lips like the damn lottery. A smile.And not a smirk, or a sneer, or anything so characteristically Malfoy. It was a true, genuine, honest grin.And it was so beautifully un-Malfoy that Harry felt a mixture of admiration and confusion but before he could ponder it... the world was changing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed writing this story! It’s pretty much a Drarry/Wolfstar mashup (why have one OTP in your story when you can have TWO!?) I hope you guys enjoy! ❤️
> 
> Also, if you like a soundtrack, here are some songs that I blasted while writing this:  
> -Dearly Beloved cover by Amalee (this song and kingdom hearts in general gave a lot of inspiration)  
> -Treacherous by Taylor Swift (my Wolfstar theme song, idk)  
> -Better by Khalid
> 
> One more thing: I have no beta, so all mistakes are my own. Thanks! <3

Anything would’ve been better than this.

 

Detention with Filch was looking like heaven at this point; polishing the trophy room by hand was much more appealing.

Even writing “I must not tell lies” was a hint more embracing than the situation Harry Potter found himself in currently. Well... almost.

Detention with Dumbledore was most humbling. Disappointing the old Headmaster had its own way of tearing him up from the inside out, and this brought his guilt to a whole new level.

He shouldn’t have gotten into a fight with Draco Malfoy, to say the least.

If he would’ve kept his mouth shut, quelled his Gryffindor instincts and pressed his lips into a hard line of defiance, then maybe he wouldn’t be here. But, no.

Malfoy had a way of pressing his buttons, like he knew every little quirk and sensitivity about him. He knew exactly when to push, and where, and it drove Harry absolutely mad. No one could affect him like this.

When Malfoy accused him of being gay, he all but snapped.

“I heard you and the Weasellete called it quits,” he called haughtily. “Did she finally realize that you’re into blokes?”

Harry was already in a piss poor mood. He and Ginny had called it quits, but for very different reasons. They just didn’t work, that was all. They were better off as best friends. There was just no...chemistry.

It most definitely had NOTHING to do with his sexuality. But somehow... Malfoy had found another of his irritating, sensitive spots. And Harry all but snapped.

“It’s none of your GODDAMN business, Malfoy!”

“Are you sure about that? I’m quite attractive; are you sure you’re not in love with me?” That smirk, that Malfoy sneer that Harry had known since first year tugged snobbishly at his lips.

Something about it, and Harry couldn’t quite tell what it was, caused his stomach to twist in knots. What an arrogant prat, a goddamn privileged brat, a fucking rude arse...

His blood was boiling. And all of a sudden, without a word, his fist had met Malfoy’s jaw.

When Potter realized what he’d done, Malfoy was already bleeding. He had that surprised, stupid expression plastered against his face that reminded Harry all too much of the infamous run-in with Buckbeak in third year.

There was something slightly different about his face, though. It was as if a flash of genuine hurt had crossed his eyes, silver irises blending into the depth of a storm. In that moment, Harry felt nothing short of confusion.

But then all too quickly Draco had straightened himself back into a statuesque Malfoy.

“What the FUCK, Potter?” He whined, hand cupping the bruise that was already forming on his right mandible.

“I- you-“ Harry stuttered, realizing that for some reason, Malfoy wasn’t going to hit him back. He shuffled confusedly, trying to make sense of what had happened. He didn’t get much farther before McGonnagal approached them.

“I have had it with you two. Mr. Potter, Did you do this to Mr. Malfoy?”

Malfoy’s lack of retaliation left Harry confused and reeling. Unable to make sense of the situation, he nodded once at his head of house, realizing quickly that his punishment would not be light.

And still, Malfoy didn’t move.

“Both of you. Headmaster’s office. Now.”

They’d followed Minerva McGonnogal to the large gargoyle that marked the entrance to Dumbledore’s office. Harry was sure his stomach was about to fall to his knees. How could he have let Malfoy affect him so easily?

Why was it so simple for him to hit a nerve? Didn’t he have more self control than this? And what nerve had he hit, exactly?

He’d called him gay, that was it. Why did that bother him so much? Was it just because it was Malfoy, or was it something much deeper?

This was the least of his worries at the moment, however. The look on Malfoy’s face revealed that he felt similarly, fear eating them from the inside. Would they be expelled? Punished? Never allowed to return?

Fighting was something the Headmaster never took lightly. Harry folded his hands in his lap nervously as they sat before him, awaiting the verdict.

Malfoy never looked up from the floor.

“I’ve decided to give you boys detention with me this weekend. You will forfeit your Hogsmeade priveliages and meet me here Saturday morning. Is that understood?”

Both boys nodded, extremely grateful for the apparent lack of expulsion.

“Yes, sir.” Harry spilled gratefully, and Malfoy nodded in agreement.

All in all, detention with Dumbledore was better than having his wand snapped. But being forced to spend an entire weekend alone with Malfoy... that was another situation entirely. And this was bound to be torture.

They met at the entrance to the office bright and early. Malfoy was already perched against the wall when Harry arrived, silent but lacking his normal contempt.

As he approached, Malfoy removed himself from his post and muttered the password that caused the gargoyle to leap aside. Wordlessly, he led the ascent to their doom.

Perhaps he was being dramatic, but Malfoy in all of his silence was no less than suspicious. Why hadn’t he cracked his normal insult? Flashed him a sneer?

Perhaps he just wanted this to be over with as much as Potter did.

Dumbledore waved them inside as they approached the top step.

“Come in, boys, I have your assignment prepared.” He smiled softly, an omniscient sign that belonged solely to Dumbledore. Harry breathed a sigh of relief at his apparent lack of anger. Perhaps detention wouldn’t be so bad, armed with the knowledge of Dumbledore’s forgiveness.

Draco seemed to soften as well, in all of his arrogance it appeared that he didn’t like to be on the Headmaster’s bad side any more than Harry did. It was an aspect of Malfoy he’d never noticed before.

He always seemed apathetic to authority, as if his last name was enough to place him above the rules. Not in this moment, though. The gentle expression on his face revealed his own humility and desire to please the Headmaster much like Harry did.

It puzzled him more than anything.

“Today, you will be working with one of my most prized possessions. This,” he tapped his wand against a circular basin that was propped on his desk, “is a pensieve.”

Harry nodded, familiar with the inner workings of the silvery substance floating along the edges of the stone.

He’d stumbled into it before in his fourth year, fallen straight into a world made purely of memory.

What on earth would they be using it for today?

Draco’s brow was narrowed, clearly wondering the same thing. He remained silent, awaiting the headmaster’s orders earnestly.

“I have a few memories that you will be sorting through today. It’s quite simple, really. Together, you will enter the pensieve and categorize each one by content. Memories with similar themes will be collected in like vials at the end of the of your detention. You will find that this task is much more easily accomplished by working together.”

He laced his fingers, peering at the boys above half-mooned spectacles.

“Do you have any questions?”

Neither spoke, and Dumbledore flashed another smile. “Okay, then. Let’s get started.”

Harry approached the pensieve, followed by a slightly apprehensive Draco. From opposite sides of the basin, they leaned over the silvery smoke slowly. In a sudden moment, green eyes met silver, and Harry swore he’d never seen those eyes appear so honest. Before he had a moment to process this, they tumbled head first into a swirling oblivion.

Harry’s stomach lurched as he arrived in what appeared to be a very different world than the one they’d left Dumbledore standing in. The room was spinning slightly, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust before he realized where they were standing. Hogsmeade.

The skies were a pallet of oranges and scarlets, reflecting against a grayish hue that marked their presence in a past memory.

It was as if they were stuck in an old photo, a classic version of the village they’d come to know. Harry had all but forgotten his enemy’s presence as he soaked in the details of his surroundings. It was almost sunset, and the town appeared eerily vacant.

“Well, are you just going to stand there all day or are you going to view this memory with me so that we can get out of here?” Malfoy’s familiar scoff brought Harry back to reality, and he found himself groaning internally.

Sighing, he turned to face the Slytherin. “Of course, Malfoy. I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”

Rolling his eyes, he stalked past him and began heading toward the edge of town.

“Wait, Potter! Where are you going?”  
There was a hint of anxiety in Draco’s voice as he followed the Gryffindor. Turns out he wasn’t as confident as he made himself sound, Harry thought with an internal smirk.

“Relax, Malfoy. I think I heard something.”

They approached the edge of town almost stealthily. When Harry reached the shrieking shack, Malfoy in tow, they were met by an appeased Dumbledore exiting into the open.

Malfoy immediately yanked Harry by his robes to the safety of a nearby bush, struggling to stay concealed in a way that Harry found charmingly hilarious.

Stifling a laugh, he turned to his nemesis with a glint of humor in his eyes.  
“You know he can’t see us, Malfoy.”

Blonde eyebrows furrowed in momentary confusion before his face contorted into a grimace that held a trace of embarrassment. Harry couldn’t help himself; Malfoy being anything less than right and proper had him grinning.

With a roll of his eyes a and a slight push on the shoulder, Malfoy signaled for him to be quiet as another figure emerged from the shack.

“Albus, are you sure this will work?” The concerned voice of Minerva McGonnagal was enough to raise the hair on Potter’s arms. Pointlessly, the two remained hidden behind the bush together. There was an understanding between them that seemed to override any hatred held against the other. Whatever this was, it was important.

“I have no doubts that this will work, Minerva. We must have faith in young Remus.”

Remus. Professor Lupin. The Headmaster and the Head of House both appeared to be considerably younger, and pieces began to click into place faster than the latest fire bolt. This was definitely before their time, a memory that Harry would be most interested in sorting.

He could only hope he’d get a glimpse of James Potter.

Their elders paused momentarily before returning back the way they’d come, and it took a moment for Harry to realize that they should follow.

“What are they talking about, Potter?” Malfoy whispered harshly, aggravated suddenly at his apparent lack of understanding.

Again, Harry laughed. “They can’t hear us either, Malfoy.”

With an elbow to the ribs, Harry found himself being pulled toward the shrieking shack by the Slytherin.

“Well, if you don’t plan on telling me, I’ll figure it out one way or another.”

“Relax, Malfoy.” They entered the shack, and Harry began leading him to the familiarity of the trap door that would lead back to Hogwarts. “Professor Lupin? The guy you hate?”

“I never said I hated him.” Malfoy was strangely defensive, and Harry eyed him suspiciously before continuing through the shack.

“Okay, well, the one you refused to learn Defense from in third year?”

“Yeah?”

He stopped again, realizing the direction this conversation was heading, and just how divulging this memory might be.

“Never mind. You’ll see.”

Draco huffed from behind, and Harry could almost feel the eye roll. “I knew you weren’t going to tell me, you prat.”

“Don’t forget who got us into this mess.” Harry started mindlessly as he lifted the trap door to the whomping willow.

“First of all, YOU punched me. Are you completely mental? And secondly... are we going... down there?”

Harry paused, half bent and prepared to drop into the hole that would lead to the darkness of the upcoming tunnel.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared, Malfoy.”

“No, you idiot! Must I remind you that we’re not the best of friends? And I’m about to follow you Merlin knows where in the DARK-“ he started patting himself- “I don’t even have my WAND. Where is my wand, Potter?”

Puzzled, Harry began to feel his own robes only to notice the absence of his own holly and Phoenix feather.

“I don’t have mine either.” He eyed Malfoy curiously before shrugging. “Might as well go on without it.” As he lowered himself through the door, Draco Malfoy refused to be silent about his uneasiness.

“Fine, Potter. I’ll come. But not because you’re he Chosen One or anything. I just want to get out of here as fast as possible. That’s all.”

Harry couldn’t help but smirk at Malfoy’s lack of enthusiasm. The whole thing seemed slightly funny, and he felt an odd sense of appreciation for the blonde as his feet touched the dirt floor of the tunnel. If anything, at least this would be entertaining.

Malfoy followed Potter down the endlessness of the tunnel to Hogwarts.

“Just a bit farther,” he assured Malfoy, who’d complained for the tenth time that he was surely being led to his death.

As they emerged from the whomping willow, frozen by Harry’s doing, a glimpse of McGonnagal and Dumbledore could he seen entering the castle ahead. Harry motioned for Malfoy to keep up, who reluctantly continued to follow.

“Potter. Always telling others what to do. If I had it my way...”  
Harry could hear the muttering and, again, felt his lips pull into a satisfied smile. The possibility of finding out more about his father and the days of the Marauders, AND the unlikely chance to piss off Malfoy?

Detention might not be so bad after all.

When they crossed through the grand entrance, both McGonnogal’s and Dumbledore’s robes were trailing the stone not far ahead. Harry stepped forward with Draco close behind with the intent on continuing their trail when suddenly the atmosphere began to bubble.

The air around them waved like oceans, the current flipping and flopping as one memory morphed into another. Draco instinctively grabbed Harry’s arm, unfamiliar with the alarming change in scenery.

Harry noticed the subtle grasp of each finger digging into his forearm, and for some reason it didn’t bother him. Instead, it seemed to ground him to the reality of detention as the setting changed completely.


	2. Chapter 2

“Where are we?” Malfoy’s voice was barely above a whisper, the words hanging on the edge of the darkness that enveloped them.

“I don’t-“ Harry started, but all at once the lights seemed to shine, illuminating their surroundings vibrantly. He blinked once, then twice as his eyes adjusted.

They were in the Great Hall. It appeared that this was the sorting feast, although for what year he couldn’t be sure. Solid black robes lined the front of the room, eyes darting back and forth nervously.

One face seemed to penetrate the crowd, sticking out enchantingly amongst the others. Harry cocked his head, studying the young red-head eagerly. Who was this girl, and why did she seem so familiar?

Draco stood frozen beside him, watching the first years intently. Trying to piece his own puzzle together.

“Evans, Lily!”  
The redhead hopped up to be sorted, a hopeful gleam in her eye. Harry’s breath caught somewhere in his chest, and he even felt Draco stiffen beside him. Somehow, he knew.

The hat didn’t take long to belt the loud cry of “GRYFFINDOR!” Across the Hall. There were cheers and yells as she skipped to her new table, and Harry couldn’t help but beam proudly.

Most of those who were sorted he’d never heard of. Draco quickly became bored beside him, tapping his heel at the length of the ceremony. Harry’s eyes were glued on his mother. The way she smiled at her fellow housemates, her shy laugh at something someone had said. It was all so very captivating.

The call of “Black, Sirius!” Broke him from his stupor, and he noticed from the corner of his eye that Draco’s brow had furrowed in curiosity.

For the second time that day, Harry lost his ability to breathe. A scrawny but promising young boy approached the hat, clearly trying to display a care-free demeanor. Harry saw right past the facade, immediately sensing the internal dilemma Sirius was facing. Suddenly, he realized just how big of a day this was for his God-father.

The hat perched heavily on his head, clearly deciphering many thoughts and suggestions from the boy. It crinkled, and bent, and grew eerily silent before it seemed to gaze about the room in its own way. With a roar, the word “Gryffindor!” Filled the Hall.

Harry had never realized just how big of a deal it was for a Black to be sorted amongst lions.

The entire room was silent. The drop of a fork could be heard from the Hufflepuff table, and it was enough to magnify the pounding of Harry’s heart in his chest.

He slowly made his way to the table of golds and reds, when another boy of his age began to clap. Harry studied his face, rounded spectacles perched beneath messy hair and instantly knew that James Potter was in the building.

Before long, the rest of the Gryffindors erupted into applause. Harry heard Draco gulp beside him as Sirius joined his father at the table.

When Remus Lupin was sorted into Gryffindor, Harry caught himself clapping with the crowd. He wasn’t sure why Dumbledore was revealing these memories to them, or why on earth they would need to be organized, but he didn’t care. This reality was a heavenly reprieve from the one he and Malfoy were currently residing in. He’d spend as much time as he was allowed here in detention.

Even if it had to be with the blonde prat standing next to him.

Harry’s smile faded considerably upon turning to the git, whose face had paled several shades closer to white.

“Malfoy, what’s-“

Harry followed his gaze to a taller, blonde individual accompanied by a girl with unruly black curls. Approaching from the Slytherin side of the room, they made their way to stop rather close to where they were standing- near the Gryffindor table.

“You’ve wronged your entire family, Sirius. Just had to hang out with the wittle Lions, didn’t you?” She formed her face into a dramatic pout, clearly mocking him.

Harry froze, taking in the sight before him. “Is that-“

“Aunt Bella.” Draco’s voice was soft and humble, almost contemplative. His eyes were glued before them.

“Shut up, Bella. You’re just jealous that you can’t hang with the cool kids.” Sirius flashed her a condescending smile, holding his ground.

“Please, Black. If you think that this-“ the blonde male threw a disgusted glance down the table- “is where you belong, you’re more pathetic than I thought.”

Sirius didn’t say a word, but flashed them a friendly gesture with his hand.

“Come on, Lucius, we’ve got more important things to attend to.”

Harry heard a soft gasp from behind him. As the two cantered back haughtily to the Slytherin table, Draco found his voice.

“My father always said that Sirius Black was a traitor. That he disgraced my mother’s family. But he never told me why.” His expression was blank and lacked the usual contempt that Harry expected.

He felt his own stance soften as he gestured forward. “This is why.”

Draco gulped, settling for the silence that developed between them. Harry didn’t have time to wonder what Malfoy’s deal was; the world was already shifting again.

The Great Hall swirled in waves of sepia as it morphed into another setting entirely. As the environment settled again, Harry felt a hand grasp the back of his forearm with an obvious attempt to steady itself.

When Harry looked back at its owner, Malfoy’s eyes were a humble shade of silver. Upon meeting green they seemed to dilate, recognizing what was happening with a nervousness that Harry could almost taste. How uncharacteristically pure, how subtle, how... nothing had ever happened like this. Who was this guy, and what had he done with Malfoy?

Harry felt his breath catch as the fingers loosened, letting go as the world settled into a balance.

This room was all too familiar. There were four beds, each of which was currently occupied. Harry’s attention was stolen immediately by the boys, who appeared several years older than they had in the previous memory.

On the far left was a shorter, plump fellow that Harry didn’t have to think twice before labeling as Peter Pettigrew. The only thing that kept his blood from boiling at the sight of the traitor himself was the person next to him. James Potter was flipping through a quidditch book, nonchalantly biting the end of his quill in between circling strategies for his next match. It was all-consuming, getting to watch him father in a state so casual, a side he’d never had the pleasure of viewing.

“Hey Sirius, are you gonna join the team or what, mate?”

One bed to the right was Black himself, hair grown out past his shoulders and bearing a frame that was all muscle. He laid back dramatically with a sigh.

“I have far too much rebellion to ensue before signing up for quidditch, brother.”

James smirked with a soft chuckle. “Oh, yeah, you’re a rebel Alright. You’re as ferocious as a puppy.”

“No, Remus is as ferocious as a puppy.” He winked at his best friend, resisting an elbow in the ribs from Lupin, who’d migrated to Sirius’s bed.

Harry caught himself chuckling relaxedly. So much friendship existed between the companions, that much was evident just in the way they talked.

“So, Peter, any girls in our year that you fancy?” Sirius nodded his head at the boy, who turned three shades redder as he retracted within himself.

“Uh, no... no fourth years...”

“That’s because she’s a seventh year, huh lad?” James’s suggestive facetiousness set the mood of the room immediately.

“I...uh... what about you guys? I don’t see you with any girlfriends!” Peter’s defensiveness only made Black and Potter laugh harder.

“Well, that’s very simple, Peter. I’m holding out on Evans. She’s the one for me, she just doesn’t realize it quite yet.”

“Evans, Evans, Evans, that’s all you’re ever on about.” Sirius mocked Potter with a kissy face and turned to a chuckling Remus.

“Oh, Evans, won’t you love me? With your beautiful red hair and your sassy know it all attitude?” He dramatically leaned his head on Remus’s shoulder and batted his eyelashes in an oh-so feminine manner.

“Oh, yes, James, I just love quidditch playing dorks who wear glasses and never stop asking me on dates!” Remus played along, laying it on thick with an arm around Sirius’s shoulder.

The next moment found a quidditch book thrown in their direction. Laughter filled the room, and Harry caught himself smiling.

Beside him, Draco’s lips had turned upward ever so slightly. They were still pressed into a thin line, as always, but that solid corner, Harry had noticed, was subtly pulled.

It was one of those confusing moments again. Something about the air in the room, the warm fuzzy feeling that was observing his father and those he’d grown to love, had him not hating Malfoy at all.

He yearned to see that frown melt the rest of the way, if for no reason other than to know it could happen. And he wanted to learn exactly what Malfoy’s face would look like with a smile. How different his sharp features would appear.

“What is it, Potter?” Malfoy asked, but his voice lacked its usual hostility.

He was genuinely curious.

Holding a soft expression, an almost contemplative face, Harry felt his own lips tug upward. “It’s nothing.”

Malfoy’s silver eyes penetrated through him like a double edged sword, curiosity striking all other emotion. Neither dared break the stare that held them motionless to the floor of Gryffindor tower.

The laugh of Sirius Black continued to echo as the room began to morph again.

Malfoy’s hands were splayed before him, struggling for balance as their equilibrium was thrown into motion. Something in Harry was disappointed that it wasn’t his forearm he was using to steady himself.

It was just the humor, that was all. Seeing Malfoy hold him in a weakened state, it was satisfying. It seemed to feed a part of him that he didn’t know existed until now.

It was probably just his hatred of the bloke.

When the world settled, Draco recognized the setting immediately.

“The infirmary.” He stared, and Harry nodded as the scene came into focus.


	3. Chapter 3

Remus Lupin was perched motionless in bed, likely sleeping. His body was bruised and torn, gashes and cuts adorning bare skin.

“What the fuck happened to him?” Draco’s voice was barely above a whisper, and Harry could sense the small piece of genuine concern behind the words.

He didn’t dare answer, though he knew immediately what the previous night would have entailed.

Madam Pomfrey appeared from her office, much younger but no less the same flitting woman who cared infinitely for her patients. She began to dab Remus’s wounds with healing salve, muttering to herself about “broken bones” and “this one will take some recovery.”

He slept through the entire examination until the door to the wing flew open. Behind it stood the rest of the Marauders, all looking hopeful and eager to see their best friend.

Sirius all but ran to his side, and tired eyes opened to meet the darkest of brown. He immediately placed a hand over Lupin’s, a seriousness settling between them as Black smiled warmly.

“How are you, Moons?”

Remus’s lips pulled into a weakened smile at the sound of his most favored friend.

“I’m fine, Sirius. As always.”

Black’s fingers began tracing the back of Remus’s hand softly, a small gesture that did not go unnoticed by Harry.

Apparently, Draco saw it, too.

“Potter- Are Black and Lupin, are they...” his voice wasn’t disgusted, or spiteful. There was an honest, almost hopeful tone hanging between his words.

“I- I don’t know. Sirius never told me...”

The rest of the group lurched for their turn. There was an understanding that Sirius got to go first, that Remus’s transformations affected him more than the other two. No one seemed to question why that was.

Malfoy kept silent for the duration of the memory, watching intently as Lupin rested. His eyes never wandered from the group before them, and Harry wondered just what Malfoy was seeing. Feeling. Thinking.

When the lights dimmed, and the memory began to transform, Harry swore he heard Malfoy whispering. The words were rushed, and indiscriminate, but the words “I wish I had that,” were not easy to mistake.

For the third time that day, Harry felt his breath catch in the hollow of his chest.

This time, they landed near the Great Lake. The sky was a crisp blue, evident even in the dull hues of the memory. Several students were outside; some where studying, others were playing games.

Beneath a shady oak tree sat Black, Potter, and Pettigrew. Potter was twirling a snitch between his fingers; Black was leaning lazily against the tree. Pettigrew was in his own world, appearing to study the puffy white clouds that dotted the sky.

“Is Moony still in the library?” James asked nonchalantly, twisting and tossing the snitch between hands.

“Yeah. Bloke’s quite the nerd, isn’t he?” Sirius said with a smirk, smiling to himself more than anyone else.

“We can’t all walk in and ace the tests without studying, Black.” Peter chimed with a jealous glint in his eye, and Sirius chuckled.

“Who? Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He is in the library, right? I mean, he’s seemed pretty ruff after the last few moons.” James mentioned concernedly, and Sirius nodded.

“Yes. But I agree- His injuries are getting worse.”

“Do you know why?” Peter propped himself up on his elbows.

James shrugged. “Sirius, you know him better than us. Any ideas?”

Black leaned back, studying the leaves on the branches above him. “I wonder if it has to do with how close we’ve all become,” he said thoughtfully. “The more time we spend with Remus, the harder it is to be away from him. I wonder if he feels that, too.”

At this, Harry felt Draco’s eyes shift to his face.

“Maybe. What can we do about that? Join him? Someone is bound to get hurt, mate.”  
James peered at him from beneath his glasses questioningly.

“No, you’re right. There’s got to be something, though...” Black closed his eyes in thought.

“Hey, guys.” A startled Sirius Black jumped dramatically as Remus seemingly appeared from thin air and took a seat next to him. He laughed warmly at the ridiculousness of his reaction, pulling a charmed smile from Sirius.

“He loves him.” Draco declared softly, eyes still locked on Potter.

Harry nodded. There were a lot of unknowns, but that much seemed clear. Sirius Black was head over heels for Remus Lupin.

“Whatcha been studying?” Peter asked, breaking the moment. Lupin turned to him with an exhausted smile.

“McGonnagal’s. We’ve got that test on animagi this week, remember?”

All of a sudden, Sirius perked up.

“Oh my god, Remus, I have to go.” He stood without explanation, and James groaned.

“Don’t tell me you’ve decided to follow in Moony’s foot steps?”

“Even better!” He turned back and flashed them a wide grin. “I’ll catch you guys later!”

As Black walked away, James rolled his eyes, and Lupin’s brow furrowed.

“That was weird.”  
“When isn’t he weird?”  
“True.”

They chuckled, enjoying the moment until it appeared that a group of Slytherins was headed their way.

“Fuck,” muttered James as they neared.

“Where’s Black?” Bellatrix placed both hands on her hips, clearly annoyed that they’d missed him.

“What’s it to you, Snake?”

“Watch your mouth, Potter.” She spat, and Lucius Malfoy placed a hand in front of her.

“Now, now, Bella. We’re not here to provoke the poor Gryffindors. We just have some business to attend to regarding the traitor.” His voice was thick as ice, and it sent an involuntary shiver down Harry’s spine. It reminded him all too much of the Department of Mysteries the year before.

“Don’t call him that!” Remus growled defensively, and the group began to laugh.

“What are you gonna do about it, Lupin?” Bella cackled, but another Slytherin was already stepping forward.

His hair was jet black, slicked back so that not a single hair was out of place. He brought himself closer to Lupin, his shadow towering over him though he was clearly younger.

“Tell my brother that I need to speak with him, Lupin.” His voice was threatening, but Remus didn’t back down. He rose to a standing position, height clearly an advantage against the younger Slytherin.

“I can’t promise that he’ll want to speak with you.” There was considerably less contempt coming from the Marauder.

“Well, if I were you, I would make sure of it.” His words hung in the air between them as he turned on one foot and led the gang of Slytherins away.

Bella’s tongue was hanging out of her mouth crudely as she looked back for one last glare, and then the group was gone.

“Regulus Black.” Harry stated, eyes glued ahead.

“My cousin.” Draco’s voice was even-tempered, almost observant.

“I forget you’re related to them, sometimes.” Harry crossed his arms, suddenly feeling like the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.

“Why do the Slytherins hate them so much?!” Harry’s next question was blurted, unplanned, and instantly regretted.

He knew that Malfoy would take this as a personal offense against his house. And he realized quickly that their thin truce was about to end.

But Malfoy didn’t yell, or spit defensively, or even physically attack him. Instead, he glanced at his own toes before replying.

“Because they’re threatened by them.”

Harry paused, flabbergasted. His eyes darted to Malfoy, who seemed humble and in thought. Suddenly, silver eyes that were as soft as a storm cloud were meeting his own.

“You bloody Gryffindors, with your heroics... you’ve got enough morale to win a war. And we know it.” He paused once more.

“I can’t believe I’m telling you this. You of all people, Potter. But I can sort of...relate.”

“No, really? You?” Harry’s words dripped with sarcasm, but a playful smile rested on his lips.

“Shut up. Prat.”

Suddenly, everything froze. There it was, dancing on Malfoy’s lips like the damn lottery. A smile.

And not a smirk, or a sneer, or anything so characteristically Malfoy. It was a true, genuine, honest grin.

And it was so beautifully un-Malfoy that Harry felt a mixture of admiration and confusion but before he could ponder it... the world was changing.


	4. Chapter 4

They were in the dungeons. The boys both recognized their surroundings immediately; they were outside of the Slytherin common room.

It was cold and damp and dark, even more so than usual. It must’ve been the middle of the night.

“Sirius.”

Out of the shadows emerged The Gryffindor, trespassing Slytherin territory like the rebel he was. He approached his visitor cautiously, glancing in both directions to ensure their solitude.

“Thank you for coming.” Regulus Black extended his hand forward almost professionally, and Sirius shrunk back without taking it.

“What could you possibly want me here for, Reg? To torment me some more about my traitor status?” Sirius crossed his arms skeptically.

“No. You know I don’t feel that way, Sirius.”

“Bullshit, Reg. All of the people you spend your time following around hate me. How in the hell do you expect me to believe that you don’t?”

“Because you’re my brother!” Regulus’s carefully planned facade had crumbled. Here, in the middle of the hall at the witching hour, they were no longer Gryffindor and Slytherin. They were family.

“Then why did you let Dad beat the shit out of me, Reg? Why didn’t you stand up for me?”

Sirius stepped forward, and in the dim light it was evident that he bore bruises beneath each eye.

“Because you did it to yourself! You come home for winter break, when you should’ve just gone to Potter’s, and you strut about blatantly disrespecting our family!”

“So being myself is a blatant disrespect to the Black name, eh? Maybe I should’ve gone to Potter’s. He wouldn’t have let that happen to me!”

“That’s because he’s more of a brother to you, right? James Potter, perfect, Gryffindor James Potter always coming to your goddamn rescue.”

Regulus was heaving; tensions were rising. Draco was stiff next to Harry.

“You’re a coward, Regulus. James would’ve come to my rescue, because he’s not afraid like you! All you are is a follower. When will you learn to stand up for what’s right?”

“I do stand up for what’s right!”

“Oh, sure, because associating with a bunch of blood-supremacist racist twats is doing the right thing.”

“It IS the right thing! Because muggle-Borns are unworthy! Just like you.”

Sirius didn’t respond, jaw hanging, hands balled into fists and shaking.

“I- I didn’t mean that-“ Regulus stuttered after a moment, backtracking on what had been spoken without thought.

“Yes, you did. That’s why you invited me here, huh? To finally break things off for good?”

“No, Sirius! The opposite! I came to make sure things were good between us!”

“Well,” Sirius spat angrily, “they aren’t. And I doubt they ever will be.”

Without another word or glance in his direction, Sirius was gone.

Harry expected the walls to shift, one memory blurring into the next, but the word remained still for another moment.

It was in this moment that they got to view a secret, an act that they were never intended to witness.

They observed the tears begin to fall down Regulus’s cheeks, the red-rimmed look of regret tainting his eyes. They watched as he turned and punched the wall, upset at no one other than himself, before entering the Slytherin common room alone.

Draco was invested more than Harry had ever seen him before. It was like potions class, or the middle of a quidditch match, when his eyes were peeled for the snitch. He was so focused, so concentrated, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in his head.

Before he could ask, the world began to shift again.

They were in the familiarity of the Gryffindor dormitory. All were present except Remus, and Harry noticed Draco cock his head observantly.

“I miss Remus,” Sirius complained, waving his wand above his head mindlessly.

“We know.” James didn’t stray from his copy of the Daily Prophet, perched relaxedly on his own bed.

“So, I know what we can do to help Rem at the next full moon.” Sirius rolled over to face the other two. Peter perked up enthusiastically; James peered upward from the paper.

“Why do I have a feeling this is going to be crazy?” Peter piped nervously.

“Because when are his ideas not completely mental?” James smirked playfully.

“I will admit, it’s insane. But we have to do it.”

“Humor us, Black.”

“We’re going to become animagi.”

Silence. Peter’s eyes were wider than the moon outside; James’s brow was furrowed as he mulled the statement over.

“Isn’t that...illegal? And hard?” Peter asked anxiously, twiddling his fingers as he knew he was either going to get with the Marauders or get behind them.

“Well, duh.” Sirius answered, a wide grin spread across his face. “But think about it. We could spend the entire moon with Remus. He wouldn’t hurt us if we were animals. And we could keep him from injuring himself as much.”

“I hate to say it, but Sirius has a point. I think we should do it.” Jame’s reached over and bumped fists with his best friend.

“You in, Peter?” Sirius’s face was positively glowing, the way it always seemed to when Remus was the subject matter.

With a sigh, Peter shrugged. “If it will help Remus, then of course I’m in.”

“Alright! Yeah, Peter!” James patted him on the back, and the banter of how exactly they were going to achieve such a feat began excitedly.

Draco appeared puzzled but absorbed. When the lights began to dim, closing in on the trio’s chatter, Malfoy spoke unexpectedly:

“Remus Lupin is a werewolf. And his friends want to help him.”

Harry started at his sudden observation, but Malfoy remained calm.

“Werewolves are usually executed or sent to reservations. They’re not allowed to have an education. And yet... look at them.”

Harry nodded, unsure of what to say. He’d never seen Malfoy so open and honest. So raw. Eventually, he settled.

“That’s what you do for the people you care about.”

“Do you seriously think that if I got bitten by a werewolf that ANYONE would become an animagus for me? My parents would probably have me executed themselves.”

“I would.” Harry spilled, and he wasn’t sure why. The response had just sort of rolled out naturally, like it belonged there the entire time. He hadn’t thought about it, but if he did, he knew that he’d meant it all along. He would do that for Malfoy. He’d do that for anyone. Wouldn’t he?

Draco’s eyes locked in a stare that was both surprised and skeptical.  
“You’d do that for...me?” He sounded more disbelieving than anything, and Harry shrugged.

“I would, Malfoy. You’re not that bad, you know.”

“Heroic prat.”

“Git.”

When the memory faded completely, both boys were smiling.

***

Their next conquest settled in the library. It was mostly empty, the exception of which was Sirius and Remus perched across from each other at a back table.

Remus’s head was buried in a textbook; Sirius’s gaze was buried in Remus. Eventually, the young wolf realized that he wouldn’t be able to focus with his best friend boring into him. He glanced upward with a smile.

“Yes?”

“There’s something about you when you study. It’s captivating.” Brown irises were enough to see straight through Remus’s soul. A blush crept up both cheeks.

“You’re one to talk.” Remus replied quickly, and immediately retracted into himself. Sirius cocked his head with a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Elaborate? Please?” His smirk turned into a warm smile that did nothing to help the heat in Remus’s cheeks.

“It’s nothing.” He said nervously, and Harry could almost feel the simper on Malfoy’s face beside him.

Sirius’s puppy dog eyes were enough to melt even the toughest of boundaries that Remus had set for himself.

With a sigh, Remus closed his book and readied himself, defeated by Sirius Black. His lips pulled into a crooked smile before he spoke.

“Everything you do captivates me, Sirius.”

“Really?” His face lit up in an almost canine fashion, a puppy that’d just been given a treat.

Remus shook his head with a soft chuckle. “Yes, you big buffoon.”

In the next moment, Sirius had reached across the table to take Remus’s hands into his own.

“You’re amazing, Rem. Absolutely amazing.”

Brown eyes held hazel as the edges of the library began to fade. Knowing that the world was about to tilt into another memory, Harry felt a hand wrap lightly around his forearm.

The fingertips were soft, and warm, and he found himself not minding one bit that Malfoy was using him to steady himself. Even if that’s all it was.

It appeared that they’d interrupted a Quidditch match.

The excitement of brooms flying every which way and cheers booming from the crowd momentarily distracted Harry from realizing that Malfoy was still holding onto him.

Likewise, when Harry turned to glance at their arms Malfoy immediately blushed and pulled apart.

Harry couldn’t quite explain why those pink cheeks were making his stomach lurch.

“James Potter gets the quaffle! He dodges the bludger, loops around Nott, and- he SCORES!”

The cheers from the Gryffindors were deafening. Harry beamed with pride as he watched his father high five his team mates.

“Looks like Gryffindor’s going to win.” Malfoy crossed his arms, casually observing the game.

“Not much has changed, huh?”

Potter grinned facetiously, and Malfoy responded with a light push on the shoulder.  
“Please, Potter. You know Slytherin will win the cup this year.”

“I’d like to see you guys try.”

It was in this moment that they realized that their eyes had met, faces not far apart. A playful air resonated between them but was quickly settling into something more serious.

Potter’s lips twitched into a smile, but Malfoy was rapidly distracted by a movement in his peripheral vision.

“Hey, look,” he instructed, turning toward the body that was walking beneath the stands. “Isn’t that Pettigrew?”

“Yeah,” Harry squinted, watching the short statured boy that appeared to be sneaking off inconspicuously.

“Let’s go.” Malfoy led the way with Harry in tow. Pettigrew, it appeared, was meeting up with someone.

“Peter.” The voice belonged to a taller male with waist-length platinum hair.

“Lucius.” Peter shuffled nervously, glancing from his feet to the Slytherin.

A wicked leer crossed his face; it was clear that he was enjoying this.

“So you wanted to meet because you’re interested in the dark arts?”

“Yes...I’ve heard rumors...that there’s a Dark Lord coming to power...”

“You’ve heard correctly, Pettigrew. What is your reasoning for being here?” Lucius peered at him skeptically.

“I... I want in. I’m tired of being the little guy. I want to be a part of something big. Something powerful.”

His doubt turned into a malicious grin.  
“Well, Pettigrew, you’ve come to the right place.”

Draco was frozen beside him.

The cheers began to fade into the background as the stands morphed into another place entirely.

***

They were outside. In the distance was a rather large estate, a plantation that was bordered by rose bushes and hedges.

Nearer to them were Black, Pettigrew, and Potter. They were seated in a circle, eyes closed and concentrated. Were they...meditating?

“Alright guys, now that we’re at my house, we can put all of this practice to good use. Are you ready to try it out?” James broke the silence with a smug grin that bore confidence in their ability.

“We’ve got this. I mean, we made it through the hardest part, right? Stealing those ingredients from Slughorn’s stash was a crime in itself.” Sirius winked, and Peter shuttered.

“I thought we were going to be expelled, for sure.”

“Please. We all know McGonnagal has a soft spot for me.” James winked before continuing. “We’ve drank the potion, we’ve read the spells, we’ve done it all. It’s now or never, guys.”

They clenched their eyes shut once more, focusing with all of their might on becoming animagi. On transferring every bone, every organ, every piece of flesh to their animal form, whatever it may be. On complete surrender.

Peter wore a face that resembled heavy constipation, and James couldn’t help but chuckle. The most insane aspect of the scene before them, however, was that right when Sirius stopped to glance at James, and Peter was about to crack open an eye, the inevitable occurred.

Peter’s body began to transform, morphing and shifting between sizes and lengths. His arms bubbled, legs swelled, and face became engorged as his physique began to shrink.

In another moment, Peter Pettigrew was gone.

In his place was a small rodent, brown and almost measly, with a long, wiry tale and a twitching nose.

Sirius and James looked at Peter, than at each other, with an expression of both great awe and amusement.

When he couldn’t take it any longer, Sirius let out a laugh.

“You’re a rat, Pete!”

“Hey, be nice to the wittle rodent.” James gestured toward the ground, squatting to get a closer look.

Peter scurried right to him, taking a spot on the palm of his hand.

“Look, Sirius, he likes me!” He laughed before suddenly dropping him.

“Ouch! He bit me!” Sirius doubled over; Peter transformed back into human form.

“That’s what you get for making fun of me,” Peter pouted.

“Awh, it’s not so bad, Pete. This could come in handy for some pranks, you know. You’re Small and fast.” He winked, but Peter only stuck out his bottom lip further.

“First of all, I’m sure that’s what your last one night stand said about you, Sirius.”  
Peter grinned before James was elbowed in the gut.

“Secondly,” he continued, still doubled over with laughter, “If Peter can do it, we can. Come on.”

Harry heard the chuckle, low and steady, come from beside him. Malfoy was getting a kick out of the Marauders, just like he was.

Next was James, whose competitive spirit fueled him farther. His body, too, began to change, lengthening at the joints. His wrists buckled uncomfortably beneath him as he fell to all fours. The boys watched intently as mahogany hair began to spout across his skin, spreading across his entire body and face. His nose stretched, and something alarming began to grow from the top of his skull.

Black and Pettigrew held their breath as the transformation completed, revealing in James’s place a broad stag.

“Awh! That’s much better than a rat!” Peter complained, crossing his arms.

“I mean, he’s not wrong,” muttered Malfoy, and Harry shook his head with a smile as they continued to watch.

James pranced around happily before chasing Sirius with his antlers. Peter’s lip retracted into a smile as he laughed at the taller Marauder, who was yelling at James to quit it.

Eventually, Potter took back to human form, still cackling as he morphed.

With a determined face, Sirius furrowed his brow and began his own transformation.

His body altered similarly, swelling and popping as he hit the ground. Pale skin was quickly covered by the darkest fur they’d ever seen. It spread rapidly to his hands and feet, which had already transfigured flawlessly to paws.

Sirius looked at his friends with the same eyes he’d given Remus so many times before. Puppy dog eyes.

“Holy shit, Sirius, you’re huge!” James gaped, giving his friend a pat between the ears.

“Who’s a good boy, who’s a good boy?” Peter dramatically called, speaking in a high pitched whine that had Sirius growling and James giggling.

“I mean, don’t dish it if you can’t take it, fluffy.”

It was James’s turn to be on the receiving end of the growl. With a laugh from the others, Sirius morphed back. His face was beaming with excitement.

“Guys, We did it! Remus will be so mad at us! But then he’ll be proud! And Happy!”

“We only broke about 50 laws to get here. We’ll be lucky if the prefect himself doesn’t give us detention.” James winked, and Peter looked up concernedly.

“I’m not doing any more detentions for you two! You talked me into this!”

“Relax, mate. No ones getting in trouble.” Sirius patted Peter on the shoulder. “Thanks for all the detentions served on our behalf, by the way.”

Peter sighed. “You’re welcome.”

And with that, the memory came to a close. It was a brief hold on their surroundings, lasting only a moment before time seemed to unfreeze at another scene in front of the Potter estate.

This time, Pettigrew and Potter himself were absent. In their place was a relaxed Sirius Black, seated casually next to a laughing Remus Lupin.

“I’m so glad you got to come here, Moons. I wish you could’ve come sooner.” He leaned back onto the lawn, resting his hands behind his head like a pillow. His eyes peered adorably at Remus, who turned back with a soft smile.

“Me too. But I just figured it’d be easier to ride the full moon out in my parents’ basement.”

Surprisingly, Sirius grinned. His white teeth glinted from the moonlight, which was bright regardless of its phase.

“We have a surprise for you, Moony. I can’t wait to show you. We’ve been working on it for some time, and... things will get better now.”

Remus tilted his head. “A surprise? For me? Please tell me there’s chocolate involved.”

Sirius chuckled. “No, not this time.”  
He paused at the sudden placement of Remus’s hand on his stomach.

“Well, whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it. As long as you guys didn’t go too crazy for me.”

“Crazy? Me? Never.” Sirius wiggled his eyebrows facetiously and placed his own hand on top of Remus’s. There was a brief silence between them, butterflies clearly coating the air.

“I’m glad you got to come here, too, you know.” Remus’s eyes settled into a seriousness as they met Black’s face. “How are things at home?”

Sirius sighed, unable to deny Moony the honest truth.

“Not much different. No bruises this time, though.”

“Are you staying here the rest of the summer?”

“Yes. I’m surprised I haven’t gotten kicked out yet, to be honest. I guess they can’t control me if I don’t officially live with them. The Potter’s have been great to me, though. They told me I’m always welcome here.”

“They’re wonderful people, the Potter’s. So are you, though. You deserve so much better than your family, you know.” Moony’s gaze softened. His hand remained comfortably wedged beneath Black’s.

“So do you, Moony. You deserve the world.”

Even in the darkness, Sirius could feel the heat coming from Remus’s cheeks. In a flit of spontaneity, he removed his hand and lifted himself into a seated position. With less than a foot of space between them, Sirius raised his palm to Remus’s right cheek.

He smiled to himself, able to feel the heat radiating from his blush. His fingers brushed lightly against it, and it was evident that Remus experienced an involuntary shudder. For a moment, his eyes closed, and his mouth dropped in a state of heaven. Sirius couldn’t help himself. Seeing Remus so relaxed, so naturally beautiful... it was too much and not enough all at once.

His own eyes fluttered shut, and he felt his face, by some gravitational pull that existed between them, come forward. There was barely any space left between them. The air that did exist in the middle of their lips was hot and heavy and full of desire.

Harry felt his stomach lurch with anticipation. Draco was frozen next to him, but his expression held something hopeful. It was a beautiful and timeless moment...

...Until James Potter emerged from the doorstep.

“Hey, dickwads, dinner’s ready, and Peter can’t control himself around food!”

They both let out a held breath, somewhat of a sigh that each body used to calm itself. Hearts were still racing, the moment enduring as Sirius smiled and shook his head.

“Damnit, James,” he muttered under his breath, and Remus chuckled.

“Come on, let’s not let Peter start eating himself.” Remus stood, extending a hand to help Sirius lift upward.

Together, they headed inside, like so many times before. This one, however, held something impossibly different.

Things would never be the same between them.

Harry was so absorbed in the moment that he almost missed Draco laughing softly beside him.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, amused at the blonde’s humor. He didn’t appear to be laughing at them, no, this was something foreign to Pre-Detention Malfoy.

“Your dad’s a cock block.”

At this, Harry couldn’t help himself. He caught himself cackling, shaking his head with a wide grin. “I can’t argue with you there, Malfoy.”

“Merlin, did we just agree on something?”

“I think we did.” Harry’s arms were crossed flippantly as he turned to meet Malfoy’s gaze.

“That’s it. The world’s ending. Any last words?”

Giggling, Harry’s grin had widened impossibly. “Shut up, Malfoy.”

The world began to change again.


	5. Chapter 5

They settled in the familiarity of the Gryffindor common room. It didn’t look much different than the one Harry had left that morning, except the faces were hardly recognizable.

In one corner, a slightly perturbed Lily Evans was propped against the wall with a book in hand. She’d obviously been mid-sentence when a very smug James Potter interrupted her.

He placed his arm against the wall above his head, leaning in as suavely as he was able.

“So, Evans, were sixth years now.” His eyebrows wiggled beneath his glasses.

“And?” She eyed him skeptically, ready to be rid of her distraction.

“And, remember that time in third year when I asked you to Hogsmeade? You said, ‘maybe if you quit asking in a few years I’ll change my mind.’ And... here we are.”

Draco face palmed; Harry chuckled lightly.

“Okay, Potter. Let’s be fair. When you stop being such an egotistical, selfish prat, I’ll go to Hogsmeade with you.” She glanced down at her page, ending the conversation with her lack of attention.

His grin quickly faded and was replaced with a pout and puppy dog eyes.  
“But, Evans...”

With another look of annoyance, Lily walked away. From another table across the room, Sirius snickered.

Crestfallen, James joined the rest of the Marauders. Remus too had a book in his lap, thumbing through the pages absently.

“I don’t get it!” He complained pathetically, falling into a chair. “Why doesn’t she like me, Remus? You guys are friends.”

“Just give her time, James. I’m sure she’ll come around.” He smiled comfortingly before turning back to his reading. Dark circles were forming beneath his eyes; he appeared nothing less than exhausted.

James shared a knowing glance with Sirius and Peter before speaking.

“Hey, I think tonight would be a good night to show you our surprise.”

“Oh my gosh! I’d almost forgotten,” Remus admitted, “I hope you all didn’t go too far out of your way for me.”

“Of course not,” James reassured him, “you’re worth it.”

After a while, Harry and Draco followed the quartet up the stairs to the dormitory.

When they were in closed quarters, Sirius turned to a bashful Remus. “Okay, Rem. With the full moon coming tomorrow, this is the perfect time to show you what we’ve been working on.”

Remus tilted his head confusedly.

“After the last full moon, we finally finished it. At James’s house. We did it.” His smile was eccentric and wild and beamed proudly.

“Sirius, what did you do...?” Remus eyed him nervously. He’d seen that look on Sirius’s face one too many times, and he knew that this was going to be something huge.

“It’s what we did, Rem. We didn’t want you to have to be alone during the full moon, anymore. And now, you don’t have to.” He moved to stand near Peter and James, who also appeared hopeful.

“Wha... what are you talking about? You can’t be there with me. I’ll hurt you all.” His gaze fell to the floor, ashamed.

When he looked up, Sirius was much closer. He placed a hand on each shoulder in a comforting reassurance.  
“Let us show you.” 

It sounded like a promise, so Remus nodded.

The next moment was both scary and eerily exciting. At once, the boys’ bodies began to change, morphing and breaking into their animagi.

Remus stood dumbfounded, unaware of what was happening around him. He reached forward for Sirius but was met instead by a rather large black dog that’s tail was wagging excitedly.

He glanced to the stag, and to the small rodent that was in Peter’s place. And suddenly, he knew.

“Are you- what the- what did you guys do!?” Sirius continued to wag his newest appendage, ears tucked back and chest shaking back and forth with excitement.

When Remus continued to stare dumbfounded, he jumped up and placed a paw on each of his shoulders before licking both cheeks repeatedly.

“Oh- ah- come on!” Remus cried, but his eyes were soft and a smile was pulling at his lips.

Sirius relaxed back down before Remus breathed out a sigh.

“I’m going to need all of you to change back, please.” He said calmly, and in the next moment he was surrounded by his friends again.

They each wore a proud, longing expression, hoping that they’d made their fourth member happy. After a moment, he spoke.

“What the hell were you guys thinking!? Turning into...” he lowered his voice- “animagi!? How did you even do it? Don’t you guys know it’s illegal? Of course you do!” James and Peter shifted subtly, waiting for Remus to calm down. Sirius was doing his best to stifle a laugh.

“Where did you even get the ingredients?!”

“Slughorn,” Peter admitted, and Remus narrowed his gaze disbelievingly.

“You did not get all of those ingredients from Slughorn.”

“Okay, Fine, I may have gone to Knockturn Alley before heading to James’s over break. But it’s not that uncommon for a Black to walk into Borgin and Burke’s.” Sirius eyed him almost challengingly, waiting for the Wolf’s walls to crack and their lecture to end.

“What if you would’ve gotten caught!? Don’t you know you could go to Azkaban for this!? Why would you do that for me? I am not worth that!”

His words hung in the air as his chest heaved with emotion. Sirius’s expression relaxed into one of comfort and caring.

“Of course you are, Moony.” He stepped forward, placing one hand on his shoulder and using the other to tilt his chin upward so that their eyes met. “You won’t ever have to be alone anymore.”

There was silence as their eyes held, emotions running high, Remus still processing what they’d done for him. He couldn’t help the tears that blinded him, making his vision cloudy.

And then Sirius was leaning toward his ear, the brush of his words a hot breath against his neck.

“You deserve the world, Rem.”

And then he was standing by James and Peter, and all three had those pathetic puppy dog eyes that only Sirius had perfected.

“What do you say, Moony? Will you forgive us for becoming unregistered animagi?”  
James flashed him an award-winning grin.

Remus shook his head, years still surfacing. “Of course, you idiots. I love you guys.”

And suddenly, Remus was pulled into an embrace by the Marauders. It was an infinite moment; a memory that would hold for a lifetime. It was happiness and hope, and for the time being it appeared that Remus would never have to worry about his transformations again.

With Sirius and the rest of the Marauders by his side, he was invincible.

It was heart warming even from an observatory standpoint. It was obvious even from Draco’s point of view that Remus had a lifetime of suffering, and that there was no one else who deserved more reprieve.

The edges of the dormitory began to darken, leading them to a place that lacked the warmth of hugs and lit lanterns.

Their surroundings were dark, almost pitch black except the soft glow of the moonlight through a nearby window.

The room they found themselves residing in was minimal at best, lined with creaking floorboards and ripped curtains. There was a bed in one corner, and a quilt that seemed much too measly for anyone their age. The place was a wreck, to put it simply.

“Where are we?” Draco asked, eyes peeling the room with a sad but disgusted tone. He kicked a torn piece of fabric that was lying on the floor.

Harry glanced around passively. “The shrieking shack. This must be where he sleeps.”

It wasn’t difficult to see Draco’s mouth drop in the moonlight. “I mean, I knew that he came here, but- but this is where he sleeps once a month? No one deserves this, Potter. Not even you.”

Harry sighed. “I’m glad to hear that you think I deserve the freshest of linens, Draco.”

The air instantly froze between them, hanging in thick sheets that made breathing difficult. Harry started, realizing what he’d just done and that he had absolutely no room to recover.

He noticed his own respiration quicken.

“You- you called me Draco...”The soft whisper felt so close, so inevitably heavy between them. Draco paused, slate eyes flickering from Potter’s gaze to his lips. It was subtle, and Harry questioned his sanity for even noticing it. But it had happened, and there was no denying that now. It seemed that in this pensieve, in this world, anything was possible.

“I...uh....” Harry faltered, unable to give a good explanation for the change. Right when he was on to something, thoughts lapping at the way they’d somehow become friends over the past few hours, or perhaps even more...

“Alright, Remus, we’re here and we’re ready to party.” James Potter threw open the rickety door with Black and Pettigrew by his side.

Harry both cursed and worshiped his father for the sudden interruption.  
“Remus? Where are you?” Sirius called, noticing the emptiness before them.

“I’m over here.” The voice called from behind, and Harry and Draco followed the group to find Remus curled up on a raggedy chair with a book and a Lumos charm.

“How much time do we have?” Peter asked nervously, twitching as if he was already in rodent form.

“Not much,” Remus eyed the window. “My ribs already hurt. The moon’s rising.”

He turned back to the gang. “You guys really should go. I appreciate all that you’ve done, I really do. But I don’t want to hurt any of you. I care about you too much.” His eyes were desperate, pleading.

Sirius was having none of it.  
“Please, Rem. We’re not backing out. For anything. Including your opinion of us being here.” His tone held a finality that Remus knew to mean his fight was pointless. He nodded.

The rest of the night was an adventure.

It began with Remus’s transformation. It was horrific, and heartbreaking, but Harry couldn’t look away as each bone in Remus Lupin’s body broke and re-formed into the wolf. His cries were wrenching, skin bleeding, teeth gnashing at what was probably the worst pain anyone could feel.

And he felt it monthly.

The first few cracks of his injured form had Draco wincing. He stood beside Potter, rooted to the floor with an emotion that had previously been unlearned: sympathy.

No one deserved this. Pure blooded, half-blooded, or muggle born. This was gruesome, and terrifying, and everything Draco had never seen but was somehow now grateful for being exposed to.

When Remus Lupin changed, so did Draco’s outlook on... everything. Everything he’d ever questioned in the past was being brought to the forefront of his mind. Values, and feelings, and morals. Bedtime stories of the Dark Lord and rituals to be followed. Enemies and friends. Potter. His father and the rest of the Death Eaters. His mother, who blindly followed her sister’s footsteps. Potter. Regulus Black, who’d probably lost his brother for good because he couldn’t see past his family’s values. Values that were outdated and wrong. Potter. Pettigrew’s betrayal to his friends that they didn’t even realize was happening at this point in their journey. Potter. Sirius Black, who ran away from those values and started a new life for himself and his own opinion. A true leader. Potter. Remus Lupin, who deserved the world, being torn to pieces. Harry Potter. Sirius Black gazing at Lupin with eyes that held the pain of his transformation. Harry Potter. Sirius in love with Remus. Harry Potter. Sirius... in love with... Draco... in love... Harry.

The morphing of three unregistered animagi as Remus emerged in wolf form snapped him from his reverie.

The wolf towered above them; its only match was Sirius’s large and gangly black paws. The difference between them was blatant enough. Sirius was a playful puppy; the wolf was a viscous dog.

Somehow, as the wolf sniffed out his new companion, it appeared that things were going to be okay. It tilted its head upward, satisfied, before moving onto the stag that held motionless behind him. 

After the wolf led a trail of sniffs down Jame’s back and Peter’s tail, it seemed to move on and accept them as if they’d always been there.

They watched as Sirius took a special interest in protecting the wolf from itself, caring to lick its wounds after it thrashed its body against the walls. He was clearly restless and itching for escape. The animagi shared worried glances, but Sirius seemed to stay confident in their ability to keep it at bay.

Several times the stag and the rat skittered about between rooms while Sirius and Remus rested against each other’s canine identities. Even with the dog’s simple thought process, it was clear that Sirius was at home here.

They were lying on the ground together, Sirius’s dark fur meshing with the lighter brown of the wolf’s. His head was lying across he wolf’s neck; the wolf’s head was on the floor between his own paws.

They went through cycles of both peace and chaos the entire evening. It was exhausting for all involved. Even Draco and Harry had taken a seat against one of the walls, watching the events in silence.

They hadn’t spoken much since Harry’s accidental name slip, and the thought kept pulling back to the front of his mind when he wasn’t distracted.

Why had he called him Draco? And why had it felt so right? So pure? Like he should’ve been doing it his entire life?

Why did that smile light up his insides like fireworks? And why did Harry like that it did that to him? Suddenly everything was so confusing yet clear.

He did like it. And it didn’t matter why. It turned out that Draco Malfoy wasn’t the person Harry had pegged him out to be; no, not at all. He was funny, and charming, and sympathetic. The idea tickled his stomach. He could’ve pondered on this, but in a fit of confusion and fear he chose to focus on the Marauders instead.

Because hello? Was he crazy? He and Draco- Malfoy- had become friends- no, civil- and then he had to go and get all... weird about it. Goddamn Malfoy always hitting a nerve. It’s what got them into this in the first place.

He hadn’t felt a tug at his insides like this in- well, ever. He certainly wanted to feel that way about Ginny; she really was a perfect match for him. But deep down... she never made him light up. Not like this.

This was it. This was what Malfoy was taking about in the beginning. About him being-

The Marauders had been quiet for a while, and the sound of the wolf stirring and jerking was enough to break him from his stupor. Suddenly, the wolf let out a loud yelp.

Malfoy jumped beside him wordlessly. Sirius (the dog version) perked up and began to tuck his tail at what’s he saw. The wolf was no longer thrashing violently or trying to break free. He was lying there, in pain. Metamorphasizing.

The moon was falling. And the wolf was howling, crying desperately as his bones broke again. Slowly, they shrank and blended into what would become Remus again.

Malfoy appeared sick. To be honest, Potter felt absolutely nauseated himself.

Eventually, the wolf was replaced by a scarred Remus, naked and vulnerable on the floor of the shack. His body was covered in cuts and bruises; blood ran down his lips where his jaw had reformed.

If anything, however, he seemed slightly better than he had when they’d initially seen him in the hospital. But the sight nonetheless was gruesome and heart wrenching for all that were standing there.

One by one, the Marauders transformed back. Sirius was the last, leaning over Remus’s body and carefully healing some of his wounds with his wand. James sat a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t wait too long, mate. You know Pomfrey will be here soon.”

“ I know.” James nodded, and he and Peter exited to Gryffindor Tower.

Sirius remained by Remus’s side, gingerly cradling him in his arms before taking him to the bed one room over. He remained mostly motionless, body exhausted and healing itself from the transformation. The exception was his head, which turned instinctively to Sirius’s chest.

A warm smile crept along Black’s lips as he settled Remus, covering him with the ragged quilt.

“I’ll see you later, Moony. I promise.” He stood tall to leave, briefly hesitating after he turned toward the exit. Impulsively, he then flipped back around and leaned toward the sleeping boy, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his forehead before departing.

In his sleep, Remus Lupin smiled.

And then Black was gone, and the memory came to a close.

Draco didn’t seem nearly as jumbled in his thoughts as Harry was. In fact, he seemed quite content beside him. That was almost comforting. Harry felt his own physique relax considerably before the world began to shift again.

They were outside, by the lake. The sun was setting peacefully beyond the turrets of the castle. Harry immediately noticed the pale glow of the evening light against Malfoy’s hair; there was something utterly enchanting about it. Like it was a halo or something. Catching himself, he shifted his focus to their surroundings.

With curfew minutes away, the landscape was vacant of students. All were in their common rooms, safely bunkered in for the night. All except two.

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin we’re perched at the edge of the water, laughing and splashing each other lightly.  
Harry had never seen his Godfather so blatantly lighthearted, and it was refreshing.

Remus’s face bore fresh scratches, maybe a few days old. It appeared that this memory didn’t occur far after the shrieking shack.

“You know, Mr. and Mrs. Potter sent James an article in the Prophet at breakfast. It spoke of the development of a new potion called Wolfsbane. It’s still under testing, but the idea is that it would be able to help- Maybe even prevent- your transformations.”

Remus turned his gaze toward his feet, which were splayed straight in front of him. He shuffled them restlessly before shrugging.

“I’m sure it’s bound to fail. Or I won’t be able to afford it.”

“Remus, why are you such a pessimist?”

“The wolf took my optimism when it bit me.”

At this, Sirius let out a loud guffaw. “My God, Rem. If I didn’t know you better, I wouldn’t question that a damn bit.”

Remus turned to face him, and their eyes met. Still smiling, Sirius settled into something more resolute.

“I will get you that potion if it’s the last thing I do, Remus Lupin. And it will work. And you won’t have to go through this anymore.”

Remus was silent, mouth agape from his sincerity. It was so Sirius of him, so loyal and determined and unapologetically beautiful. Finally he spoke.

“You’ve already done so much for me. Having you and the others there at the last moon... it helped. More than you know.”

“Good. I wouldn’t turn into a dog for just anyone, you know.” He grinned, and Remus felt a blush creep up his cheeks. That damned blush was always giving him away.

The way Sirius’s hair framed his face, falling effortlessly next to brown eyes... it was breathtaking. And suddenly Remus couldn’t breathe.

Their stare was held constant, and he felt as if they were one, as if Sirius could see straight through his soul. And strangely, that didn’t bother him.

He’d hid his condition- his life, even, for years, from so many people. Everything was a secret that had to be held. But not here- here, he was raw, and open, and for some goddamn reason... Sirius didn’t look away. He didn’t run, or scream, or fight.

He turned into an oversized puppy. For Remus. And suddenly, he lost the ability to hold anything back. His eyes flickered to the ground one last time before he leaned a bit closer, slimming the gap between them carefully.

“I felt you, you know. In the shack. Before you left. You... you kissed me. Here.”

He picked up a single finger and pressed it gently to Sirius’s forehead before drawing a trail down his temple, his cheek, his collar bone... his hand ran along his shoulder before falling to the ground beside them. Sirius hadn’t moved a muscle, but his eyes had closed momentarily as he reveled in the softness of each touch. His lips pulled into a closed lip smile before his eyelids fluttered opened.

“I knew it.” He smiled facetiously before tilting his face a bit more forward. Only a few inches remained between them now, and It suddenly became evident what was about to happen next.

“Do you want me to stop?” Sirius whispered concernedly. His breath was hot and heavy and Remus could feel it tickling his lips. He drew in a sharp breath, unable to process anything with his head swimming. He was drowning in black curls and rebelliousness, in soft genuity and dog fur. He was sinking into everything that was Sirius, and he never wanted to resurface.

“Please. No.” His response was hushed and desperate, a soft beg for their lips to meet. And then Sirius was even closer, and Remus could already taste him. He licked his lips, eyes flickering down to Sirius’s.

And then, like the crash of an ocean wave, Sirius Black pressed his lips to Remus Lupin’s. Remus was slammed with the chaotic swirl that was the incoming tide, And he never wanted it to stop. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

Sirius’s mouth was fierce and passionate against his own. Remus thought he might die, right then and there; the only thing convincing him otherwise was the rapid racing of his pulse in each ear.

Desire overcame all else as he tilted his head into the kiss, allowing Sirius’s lips to part between his own. His mouth was open, and warm, and heavy- and suddenly Remus was grasping Sirius’s robes and pulling him closer.

He did nothing to fight it, bringing his own hands to Remus’s temporal bones and holding him close. He weaved his fingers through locks of golden brown hair, gripping as if the moment was going to slip away indefinitely.

Instead, Remus pulled tighter. And their kiss was magical and passionate and everything Sirius had ever imagined a kiss to be.

He sunk deeper into Remus, releasing to him every piece of torn up teenager he had to give. And in return he felt Remus’s tongue lapping at his own.

And suddenly he felt another sensation entirely, in a much lower area of his body.  
They separated briefly, gasping for breath as they hovered mere inches from each other. Remus’s hands were still clung to Sirius’s robes, and he made no move to let go. Their eyes were locked, and this moment was everything.

Sirius felt himself involuntarily smiling, and Remus followed with a soft chuckle.

“God, Why haven’t we been doing that this whole time?” Sirius sighed, and Remus laughed before touching their foreheads.

“Sirius?”

“Rem?”

“Thank you.” His eyes were full of honesty, and Sirius was sure his stomach was going to flutter away. Instead, he decided to anchor himself to the boy in front of him by pulling him in for another kiss.

Between breaths and bouts of lips pressed against each other, Sirius’s response sent chills up Remus’s spine: “you’re worth it. You will always be worth it.”

Harry didn’t dare look at Draco as the world began to darken. It was too much for him to process. His cheeks burned as he watched them. Their kiss was his own personal train wreck, an awakening that hit him full force. There was a reason he and Ginny had never snogged like that, and deep down he’d always known why.

How could he look Malfoy in the eye, when it turns out he was right?

A part of him wanted to punch him again. The other part... wanted what they had. With him. Forever. What in the bloody hell was he thinking?

“Are you Okay?” Malfoy’s voice caused him to start, drawing a solid line through his thoughts that so happened to be centered around the boy himself.

His face must’ve been dumbfounded, or perhaps just plain dumb, because Malfoy’s contorted into one of concern.

“You look like you’re stroking out or something... that’s what the muggles call it, right?” The edges of his lips pulled upward sarcastically.

“Since when do you care about anything Muggle?”

Harry wasn’t sure what had caused him to become so defensive, but his voice dripped involuntarily with poison. Perhaps it was because Malfoy was being so nice, so incomprehensibly caring and kind. Maybe it was because on top of that, Harry had just spent the last five minutes pondering what it would be like to snog him.

Maybe he was just confused.

The look of hurt that flashed across Malfoy’s face was unmistakeable. His features quickly resolved into something more formal, and Harry felt his stomach drop.

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Draco’s expression softened slightly but remained unconvinced. Harry pivoted his body to face him, suddenly realizing that he if couldn’t avoid these feelings, he’d have to take them on head first.

“Draco.” The word was a statement, and Malfoy’s eyes widened significantly. He was going to say it- to say that his name was Harry Potter and the real reason he’d been so bothered yesterday was because he really was gay and now he sorta fancies you- Okay, really fancies this detention version of you- and how he wants to taste your lips and tell you that he loves...

But in all of his Gryffindor courage, somewhere he fell short. Scratching the back of his head nervously, he hurriedly switched gears.

“How’s... how’s your jaw?”

“Better, actually. It’s amazing what a few healing spells and a bottle of Skele-gro can do for a fracture.” His words were ominous, but there was something about the way the silver of his eyes glinted. He was humored by something.

Did he know?

Harry’s heart was pounding at this prospect, but before he could do anything further, Malfoy spoke.

“I understand why you hit me. I was being kind of an arsehole. I’m sorry you and the Weaselette didn’t work out.”

Sorry? For being an arsehole? Who the hell was this “Draco” and what had he done with Malfoy?

“It’s- it’s ok, really.” He stuttered, floored by his response. “Don’t be sorry for Ginny and me. We never would’ve worked out.”

“And why is that?”

Harry gulped, quite audibly.

“Because... I’m... you were...”

Malfoy’s eyes never lost their humor. Not as the world settled. Not even as the memory cleared to reveal another scene before them. His lips bore a slightly puzzled smirk, like he was trying to stifle a laugh. Harry’s head reeled.

And then, Peter Pettigrew spoke, diverting their attention immediately.


	6. Chapter 6

“What did you want to meet me for?” He folded and unfolded his hands anxiously, and Harry suddenly realized why his animagus form was a rodent. There was something eerily rat-like about the traitor, even in his younger form. His gaze was glued to the floor until the form in front of him spoke.

“I have it on good authority that one of your friends has a secret. And I know exactly what he’s hiding.” Lucius Malfoy’s teeth formed a malicious grin that had Harry’s skin crawling.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Peter fidgeted, obviously nervous and twitching with sudden fear. He glanced from side to side, eyes falling on the vacancy around them. There was no escaping this- no smart comment from James to distract the Slytherin, no wise remarks from Remus to humble him. Here, he was alone, and he’d have to make a choice- if he was unable to fake his way out of this...

“Peter Pettigrew, Don’t lie to me. We had an agreement. I will speak highly of you to the Dark Lord- but you mustn’t disobey. Do you understand?”

He gulped, then nodded. No, there was no escaping this.

“Good.” The malicious sneer that spread across Malfoy’s lips was eerily intimidating. It was a stark contrast to the boy beside Harry- Draco, whose lips were formed into a disturbed line, an almost unrecognizable feature when compared to his father.

“Now.” He leaned forward, face towering threateningly above Peter’s. “I want to hear it from one of his closest friends. Tell me, Peter. Why does Remus Lupin disappear every month at the full moon?”

Draco’s sharp breath was a sure match to the knot that had formed in Harry’s stomach.

“No, Peter. Don’t do it.” The words were a soft whisper from beside Harry, a plea for integrity. For redemption.

The knot in his gut untwisted into something more fuzzy.

“Uh... Remus... he... uhm...” Peter’s eyes were glassy with fear and clear indecisiveness.

“Are you questioning your loyalties?” Lucius Malfoy raised an eyebrow.  
“I don’t have time for half-arses.” He pivoted on one foot haughtily, making to leave.

Peter couldn’t see the smug grin that crossed his face when he finally muttered the word “wait!”

Slowly turning around, Malfoy crossed his arms and waited for Peter to spill the beans.

“Lupin... he’s... he’s a w-w-erewolf.”

Malfoy paused, cocking his head with an evil smirk. “Nicely done, Peter. I knew you had your priorities in line.”

“Wh-what does that have to do with anything? And Why do you care?” Peter spat frantically, questionable regret coating his voice.

“Just be glad you’ve done the right thing, Pettigrew. Rest assured, I’ll keep this in mind.”

Without further question, Lucius Malfoy walked away. And Peter Pettigrew remained, no more than a traitor, his betrayal hanging blatantly in the air.

He stood there for quite some time.

“He hasn’t changed much, you know.” The words were a soft but crisp addition to the silence.

Harry turned to face his former nemesis, and the contemplative expression he wore all but melted the remaining tendrils of his belly knot.

“I know. He went on to betray my parents.”

“Not Pettigrew. My father.”

Harry started, for some reason completely floored yet enchanted by the continuous change in character.

Harry’s brow creased, completely aware of Lucius Malfoy’s conceit and cruel demeanor but lacking in Draco’s observance of it.

He lacked words, and luckily Draco continued. “He treats me similarly. You think it’d make a difference that I’m his son, but it doesn’t.”

He paused, silver eyes burning like fire. Harry silently wondered if those cheeks were hot to the touch, if that pale skin would flicker against his own.

“I disobeyed over the summer. I told him that I wanted my own path in life. That I wanted to do potions. Open my own shop somewhere, maybe in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade.” He paused, as if debating whether or not to continue. His eyes were lit up, as if just by speaking about his dreams he could pretend he was living them. His gaze fell at his apparent decision to relive his next memory. “He used the Cruciatus on me for hours. He’d give me a rest, and right when I thought my tribute was paid I was on the ground again.”

“He wants you to be a Death Eater.” Harry’s conclusion brought Draco’s gaze back up to his own. Emerald held flush with gray, open and honest.

Draco nodded, holding the stare intently as the world began to shift.

***

“Hey, Moons, How’s the map coming?” Sirius draped an arm around Lupin, who was bent over what appeared to be a sketch of the castle.

Across from them sat James and Peter, each sipping on a butter beer and enjoying the event that was a Hogsmeade Saturday. Perched relaxedly in the Three Broomsticks, it appeared that nothing could ruin the sunshine that bled through the windows or the cool fall breeze outside.

“It’s... coming. I’m having some trouble with the staircases.”

“Remus Lupin makes a moving map of the entire school and all of its hidden passages, and the only thing he finds trouble with are the staircases? I think you’re doing just fine, mate.” James tipped his butter beer forward in a salute, and Remus chuckled.

“Hey, so I just thought about how we call you Moony,” Peter piped from across the table. “Why don’t I get a cool nickname?”

Sirius and James let out a loud and boisterous guffaw; Remus rolled his eyes with a smile.

“Trust me, Pete, it’s probably best that you don’t have reason to be called something.” He said softly, but Sirius followed with a cackle.

“Don’t be jealous, Pete. Well come up with something for you. You kinda remind me of a worm.”

“He reminds me of a rat.” James rebutted, and Sirius put a hand forth dramatically.

“Well, duh! I was going for something less obvious.”

“His tail is kinda wormy though.”  
“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?”

James and Sirius went back and forth like they always did, laughing and jabbing and going on like brothers.

“Oh my god, that’s it! Wormtail!” Sirius was beside himself, grinning from ear to ear. James was pleased, and Remus couldn’t help but chuckle. Even if it was just slightly.

Peter’s nose scrunched. “Aw, really? Why can’t it be something like ‘Proud Pete’ or ‘Radical rat?’”

“Because it’s Wormtail. Wormy wormy wormtail.” Sirius tipped his drink back, finishing the last of the sweet foam that lapped at the bottom.

“Fine.” Peter grunted, standing up. “I’m going to get another butter beer. Need one?”

“Thanks, Wormtail, you’re the best!” Sirius all but threw the empty bottle in his direction. As Peter shuffled away, Sirius shifted back to James as Remus worked on the map.

But James’s focus was a million miles away, landing steadily on a few tables down.

Sirius peered over, realizing immediately where his gaze was. Before he could interject, James was already standing.

“I’m gonna go talk to Evans. I’ll catch you all later.”

Before Sirius could object, the bloke was already seating himself next to the solitary redhead, whose nose was vested in a book.

Remus chuckled lowly. “He’s never going to give up on her, is he?”

“Probably not. But, hey, people do crazy things when they’re in love.”

Sirius’s eyes were sharp with honesty and suddenly Remus couldn’t breathe. That familiar blush was creeping up his cheeks again, and he dared to lay down his quill to meet his stare.

Sirius was smiling. And Remus felt his lips pull upward, too. It was one of those moments that seemed to last an eternity, unspoken words stretching timelessly between them.

Remus opened his mouth, clearly wondering if the middle of the Three Broomsticks was the place to say what he knew he’d felt in his heart for forever.

“Sirius, I-“

“Well if I have to be Wormtail, then you’re Dicktail. Because your tail looks like a dick.” Peter slid a couple of unopened bottles across the table, pouting but bearing a smile that showed his jesting was all in good fun.

Remus couldn’t help but chuckle, interrupted for the better, as he nodded a silent thank you before cracking open his butterbeer.

“You’re just mad because my tail is bigger.” Sirius wiggled his eyebrows playfully, but Remus felt his blush come in with another round of heat.

“And James is mad because Lily keeps rejecting his deer prongs for that book.”

Sirius gasped at Peter’s retort, and the charm that radiated from his excitement did nothing to quell the pink of Remus’s cheeks.

“PRONGS! PRONGSY! THAT’S HIS NAME!”

Several of the other tables began to look their way, and Remus giggled at the boy’s natural inability to keep quiet.

“Awh! But that’s cool! Damnit!” Peter cursed himself for giving Black the idea, and eventually the other tables went back to their normal conversation.

Sirius, in all of his exuberance, continued to ponder what his own nickname would be.

He shunned a giggling Peter who insisted upon “Fluffy” and shifted his focus to Remus, who he swore would come up with something better.

Thoughtful, Remus promised it would come on its own at some point. I mean, it had to; this was Sirius Black, after all.

And what was Black without his own nickname?

Moony continued to work on the map, grateful that the focus was off of his own name.

Sirius promised Remus they’d stop at Honeyduke’s for more chocolate before the day was over, and that’s exactly where the four of them were headed.  
James had promised Lily that although she had to end their “date” early to go study, he’d catch up with her later. She rolled her eyes at his arrogance, as always, but Remus had caught the subtle smile that pulled at her lips as she walked away.

She was humored, if nothing else.

And James, upon learning Moony’s observation, was ecstatic.

The group came to a halt as they rounded a corner, attempting to graze between buildings as a short cut to the candy store.

It looked like they wouldn’t be indulging in sweets for the next few moments, at least. Ahead of them, at the end of the alleyway, was a familiar gang of Slytherins.

Twirling her fingers through her hair, Bellatrix stood laughing next to a confident Regulus Black. His shoulders were tall, square, and far unlike the boy Draco and Harry had seen crying outside of the Slytherin common room in the previous memory.

He appeared to fit right in with his house mates.

Behind Regulus was a shorter fellow with shoulder length, greasy black hair. He was speaking with Lucius Malfoy, who seemed intrigued by the words that were out of earshot for the Marauders. Draco and Harry immediately shared a knowing glance. Eerily similar to their present day Elder, it was obvious that the boy conversing with Draco’s father was none other than Severus Snape.

Shuffled around them were several younger Slytherins that Draco and Harry didn’t recognize. The Marauders were outnumbered, to say the least.

“Guys, maybe we- maybe we should just go another way,” Peter chattered, slinking behind inconspicuously.

“No way,” scoffed James, “a few Slytherins will never stop me from a short cut.”

From beside him, Sirius felt a gentle squeeze of his right hand.

“Speaking of the losers!” Bellatrix cackled, turning the group’s attention to the approaching Gryffindors.

As they closed the distance, Regulus cocked his head haughtily. “Look, Bella, this must be what your cat dragged in.”

Whispered sniggers rang from the group.

“Alright, can you guys move the fuck out of the way or are you too far shoved up each other’s arses to know which way that is?” James let his head fall sideways as he crossed his arms impatiently.

“Well forgive me, Potter, but I do recall that we were here first?” Lucius responded coldly, eyeing the group with contempt.

“Yep, definitely too far up each other’s arses, James.” Sirius agreed with his friend, blowing his hair from his face in a gesture of apathy.

“I’ll have you know that we were having a very important conversation here,” Snapped Regulus, clearly directing all of his hate toward his older brother.

“About what? How pure your blood is? Or how pure your stupidity is?”

Harry stole a glance at Draco, whose eyes had gone wide with anticipation. He watched their every move, contemplated what was coming. At Sirius’s remark, a small gasp escaped his mouth.

“Sirius, why don’t you shut the fuck up and go bother someone else?” He’d clearly hit a nerve with his little brother, who was all but red with frustration. His cool facade was quickly crumbling.

“Actually, it was about your friend, Black.” Lucius stepped forward, a sly smile tugging his lips awry.

He glanced from side to side humorously. “Which one? They’re all too good for you twats.”

Bella giggled her signature high pitch laugh, ringing like a shrill wine across the alleyway. Sirius glanced back and forth confusedly. Harry felt his stomach drop to a place somewhere between his knees and the ground.

“The monster.”  
“The abomination.”  
“The beast.”  
“The worthless mongrel.”

Every remark was chimed from a different individual, instilling the chilling effect of a full on chorus.

Behind them, Peter chewed his nails frantically.

As if to send the message home, a final effort was made by Severus Snape himself, who stepped forward with pride.

“We know what you are, Lupin. I always knew you were pathetic, and now it seems that we have proof.”

Remus Lupin was pale. He didn’t move a muscle, didn’t twitch an inch. There was a greenish hue to his cheeks, like he might just up and vomit at any second.

Harry didn’t blame him.

Several things seemed to happen simultaneously. At once, James and Sirius had their wands drawn and pointed directly at Snape.

Bellatrix let out another bone chilling laugh.

Lucius smiled maliciously.

And down the alleyway from behind them stopped a suspicious Lily Evans, who was on her way back to the castle for some studying.

When her eyes registered the scene before her, she ran past the spot where Draco and Harry were watching intently and went head on into the middle of the confrontation.

“What in the bloody hell is going on here!?” She shrieked, glancing back and forth between sides.

Silence, as no one knew what to make of the sudden appearance of the loyal prefect.

As soon as she realized who the wands were pointed at, she turned abruptly to focus at the Marauders.

“What are you- how dare you point your wands at Severus! What has he ever done to you? You guys are just being bullies at this point!”

“I don’t need help, Lily.” The words dripped like poison from Snape’s mouth, a cold and uncaring break of their friendship.

Now, she was turning to face the Slytherins. “I was just- they were- I’m only trying to do what’s right!” She huffed drastically, unsure of what to make of the unforeseen rejection.

“What’s right is for you to stay out of it.” He spat. “I told you, I don’t need help. Especially from a mudblood like you.”

The group of Slytherins chuckled maniacally. Lily’s face turned crimson as she began to fume.

James Potter reacted on complete instinct.

“Levicorpus!” He cried, and Snape was instantly suspended upside down in mid-air. The others began drawing their wands, but Sirius was already disarming them one by one.

Remus stood frozen, still unable to move his hand for his wand. Instead, he held eyes with Lily, whose green irises were damp with worry.

Peter remained behind, pressing himself against the brick wall of the alleyway in a fit of anxious fear.

At the sight of an unarmed Slytherin gang, Lily finally rushed to pull out her own wand.

“All of you! Out of here! Before I report this to the Headmaster!” The group began to dismember, beginning with the younger Slytherins and continuing with Regulus Black who shot one last look of contempt at Sirius before turning on one heel.

“James! Put him down!” Lily cried, and Potter obeyed. Snape’s body hit the ground with a thud, and his wide, exasperated eyes scanned Lily for any sign of forgiveness.

When her cold stare became evident, he, too, scrambled to leave. Only the five of them remained.

As the adrenaline began to calm, torrents settling into waves of understanding, Lily took one last look at James before turning around and hurriedly heading back toward the castle. She was clearly shaken and disturbed, and without hesitation James took after her.

Peter shuffled away wordlessly in the opposite direction.

Remus collapsed.

He landed in the tight embrace of Sirius Black, who instinctively jumped to catch him. His arms were wrapped warmly around him as his reality began to crumble in the form of sobs.

“They know, Sirius! They know! How do they fucking know?!”

He gasped for air, falling victim to the panic that ensued. What would happen to Remus Lupin once his secret was made public?

“They don’t know, Rem. They think they know something. They don’t fucking know anything. I won’t let them know anything.”

His voice was desperate, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as the boy in his arms.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, this is not good...”  
The words belonged to Draco Malfoy, whose hands were clasped together and pressed against his lips to quell their trembling.

Harry shook his head in a somber form of agreement. This was definitely not good. Horrible. The end, quite possibly. 

“What do you think is going to happen to him?”

Remus continued to sob, Sirius brushing his hair back comfortingly. Whispering softly: “shhh. I’ve got you, Rem. I’ve got you. I won’t let them get you.”

Something about the way Black was able to calm him, bringing his sobs to a soft whimper warmed Harry’s heart in a way unlike he’d ever felt it before.

He wanted that. What they had.

When he turned to answer, that warmth radiated straight outward from his body in an invisible pull toward Malfoy. He felt himself blush considerably and prayed that the other didn’t notice.

“I-I don’t know...”

Silence remained as the memory came to a close. Harry wondered how time was passing in the real world; rules didn’t seem to apply normally in the pensieve. Minutes may have passed, or maybe hours.

He pondered this, but found himself apathetic. It could be midnight for all he cared. He suddenly found himself wanting to be nowhere else. Stuck, alone with Malfoy in this alarmingly different but wholesome world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far! I promise this story is already complete, I just may be a bit slow at uploading chapters. I’m hoping to have it completely posted by tomorrow! I hope you enjoy it so far!! ❤️


	7. Chapter 7

They were visited by another scene. Before them, a visibly bothered Remus Lupin was trying to focus on a much younger McGonnagal’s transfiguration lecture.

His eyes were red, purple circles tracing the hollows beneath. It was clear that he hadn’t slept much.

Next to him, Sirius Black was gazing into the distance. Thinking about anything but transfiguration, it seemed. Settling upon some idea, he turned to Remus with a soft smile and nudged his arm. The boy jumped slightly but relaxed when he realized that it was just Sirius, who was now excitedly scratching a note with his quill.

Both Draco and Harry lurched forward, eager to see what the writing entailed. When Draco’s shoulder brushed unexpectedly against Harry’s, even the time within the pensieve seemed to slow.

Both were standing stupidly behind the couple, trying to lean in and eavesdrop a quite possibly private conversation.

Now, the moment felt private even for them.

Harry felt his cheeks heat up again, and he tried to glance anywhere but at the source. “S-sorry,” he muttered, but Draco’s figure held steady.

From the corner of his eye, Harry saw him smile.

“It’s quite alright, Potter. I’m just glad my jaw isn’t broken again.”

Harry could fight it no longer. The grin that spread across his cheeks was involuntarily giddy. He laughed, shaking his head as his eyes met Draco’s. Again.

And Draco was laughing now, and they both were sharing in some kind of undiscovered release of tension between them. Like everything beyond this moment would figure itself out on its own.

“Meet me in the shrieking shack after class?”

The note was scrawled in the most beautiful cursive, that of a Black. When Remus looked up, Sirius’s eyebrows were wiggling. Obviously suggesting they meet alone.

He chuckled softly before silently replying: “of course.”

Draco and Harry hadn’t realized that in their proximity to Black and Lupin, they’d become closer than they’d ever been before.

They waited for class to end, and Draco tapped his foot dramatically.

“I just heard this lecture the other day,” he whined, and Harry laughed.

“God, Malfoy, just shut up and be patient.”

“You caN NOT tell me you’re enjoying this.”

Harry smiled. “Of course not. But I am enjoying seeing you so flustered.”

He meant for that to sting, or perhaps to be a playful joke. He meant for a lot of things. but what he absolutely had never planned on in a thousand years was that statement coming across as a full on flirtation.

Immediately recognizing this, he felt something close to butterflies tugging his gut toward the floor. What the fuck? What in the actual fuck? His thoughts were racing, and he was sure whatever friendship he’d spent the past few memories building with Draco was about to come to a sudden halt.

He could feel the embarrassment flood his face as he was sure that Draco was about to step away awkwardly. Completely freaked. He’d finish detention silently, standing by until his first opportunity to ditch.

And then a house full of Slytherins would be ruminating on the fact that Harry Potter was unapologetically gay and that he’d tried to flirt unintentionally with their king.

It was everything he’d been afraid of from the get go, if he was honest with himself.

All of these thoughts seemed to fly through his brain within fractions of a second.

When Malfoy finally responded, after what seemed like a hellish eternity, Harry’s stomach flipped.

“Not as much as I enjoy seeing you flustered. Prat.”

A smile danced upon his lips, and it seemed to hold the thousands of words that remained unspoken between them. Harry didn’t even realize that the classroom had become empty around them.

Draco laughed at his obliviousness. “Come on, we’ve got to follow them.”

Harry was still holding an utterly shocked and blank stare, head cocked stupidly to the side as he came to observe their surroundings.

And then, as if everything leading up to this moment wasn’t enough, Draco grasped Harry’s hand and led him through the classroom door.

***

The shrieking shack was a sight for sore eyes as always, but it certainly seemed less threatening with Lupin and Black cuddling in the corner.

Sirius leaned against the wall, cradling an exhausted Remus between his legs. He had his head nestled in the crook of Sirius’s neck, and appeared more contented than it seemed he’d been in days.

“Have you heard anything?”

Remus shook his head, eyes shut in a somewhat peaceful manner.

“James says the Slytherins won’t even talk. He thinks we’ve scared them, but... I feel like they’re planning something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that they know about me. And I’m trying to enjoy my last- however long it’s going to be- here, with you, but I just...”

His voice cracked slightly, and it appeared that he was on the verge of tears.

“Listen here, Rem. Even if they know, which is impossible, because there’s no one who could’ve told them... you won’t go away. They can’t take you away. Dumbledore wouldn’t let them. I won’t let them.”

Sirius’s eyes were full of concern, and Remus opened his briefly and gazed upward into them. He paused, searching for something that he seemed to find. He followed this by raising his neck to place a soft kiss next to Sirius’s lips, in the hollow of his cheek.

“I know you won’t. But you might not have a choice. Do you think for one second that you- or Dumbledore- would be able to stop the Malfoy family from throwing me to execution?”

“Fuck the Malfoy family! They’re as bad as the Blacks!” Sirius’s voice was rising, blood pumping loudly through his veins. Remus could hear it whooshing through his chest violently as he continued to rest against it. And then, he gazed downward at the boy who could very well have been sleeping against his body, and he visibly melted.

“I’m sorry, Remus. It makes me so angry. How unfair everything is.”

“I know, Sirius. Me too. My best bet is to make it through the school year, and maybe I can run away or something...”

“Remus Lupin, is that an invitation to run away together?” His soft tone inevitably lightened the entire mood.

“No. Absolutely not. You cannot drop out of school to come hide in a cave with me somewhere.”

“You’re right. Prongs will come too. And Wormtail, if he can face his fear of spiders.”

Remus chuckled, turning his head upward once more. He began to run his fingers through locks of black hair, savoring the silky feeling against the skin of his hands. It was smooth, and comforting, just like Sirius’s good intentions.

“We never did come up with a nickname for you.” The proclamation was contemplative as he continued to lace his fingers. Sirius closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, reveling in his canine tendency to enjoy a good rub between the ears.

“No, but you’ll think of something.” His voice was as gentle as the motion of each finger Remus continued to card through his hair.

“You seem so sure of that. What makes you have confidence in my ability to pick out a name? Or do anything for that matter?”

Sirius smiled softly, a hint of relaxed humor playing at his features. When he opened his eyes, they held something they’d never held quite like it before.

“Because I love you, Moony.”

Remus continued to run his hands down Sirius’s hair, his neck, his shoulders. A light touch was all it took to set his world on fire. He didn’t speak, caressing the soft skin of the Black that he could so proudly call his own.

“Padfoot,” he whispered fervently, breath hot against Sirius’s cheek. A pause, and then: “I love you, too, Padfoot.”

Sirius’s grin widened; his face lit up like a child who’d just received the news they’d awoken on Christmas morning.

“See!? Padfoot. I love it. I’ll always love it. Just like you.”

Remus, for the moment, appeared all but healed. His eyes had opened a bit wider; the purple rings beneath them faded into a light pink.

“I will love you for as long as I’m alive.”

And, as much as they knew that Sirius wanted to fight the implications of that statement, Draco and Harry watched him kiss Remus Lupin instead. It was beautiful, and breathtaking, and...

Harry had forgotten to breathe. When he remembered, it came in gasps that threatened to drag him to unconsciousness.

It must’ve been obvious, completely and utterly blatant that he’d been so engrossed in the couple before them that it quite literally took his breath away. Because Malfoy, instead of performing the Heimlich Maneuver or spelling him some air, stood their laughing.

He was buckled over, grasping his stomach as Harry caught his breath. A couple of coughs and pounds to his own chest brought the oxygen back, and Harry finally had a moment to notice that as Draco straightened up, his cheeks were pink.

Suddenly, and for some reason that didn’t quite make sense, Harry knew deep down to the core that Draco had been caught up in the moment just as much as he had been. And that fact alone was why he was laughing so hard.

Realizing this, Harry shook his head with a smile. It was pretty funny, after all, and he’d never been the type to become bashful at his own misfortune.

His focus was pulled by Sirius’s hand slipping gently up Remus’s shirt. His gaze quickly became frozen in their direction, and Draco’s followed out of curiosity.

His cheeks blushed from pink to full on crimson, but Harry didn’t notice. He was too busy worrying about his own embarrassment. Losing his breath was one thing, but becoming completely entranced by an act that was meant to be sexual- that was inherently intimate- and that caused another sensation entirely to flood throughout his being...

He prayed Malfoy didn’t notice.

He was too sidetracked by his own self-consciousness to take note of Draco pondering his own feelings.

Neither of them found words to speak as the memory came to a close.

When the scene came to light before them, Draco was yawning.

Harry was excited to be moving forward from his somewhat uncomfortable awakening in the shrieking shack. Turning to the blonde, Harry noticed his pale locks glowing in the moonlight.

They were outside.

“Tired?” He asked casually, taking in their surroundings.

“I guess,” was the reply, muffled slightly by the end of his yawn. “It must be getting late. Time seems different here.”

“Yeah, it does,” Harry agreed, eyes stuck again on the sheen of those pale blonde locks. He found himself wanting to run his fingers through them, to test his theory on their texture. Soft and light, like the feathers of a pheonix. And at that point his reverie came to a jolting close as he realized that the reason it seemed so captivating in the first place was because of the moon.

It was full.

They were just beyond the whomping willow, but it appeared that they were alone. Draco seemed to catch on simultaneously, adjusting his eyes to their environment and squinting for any shadowed bodies.

“It seems a bit quiet, doesn’t it?” Draco asked at the conclusion of the next few moments. Harry nodded, puzzled. Should they venture beneath into the hollows of the tree in search of the Marauders?

When Harry was about to suggest this, the sound of footsteps became evident in the distance. The boys turned their attention curtly toward the castle to find a group of several students walking suspiciously toward the tree.

“Are you sure this is where they keep him?”  
Harry froze at the sound of Severus Snape’s voice, almost inaudible if not for the clear, noiseless night.

“Yes. Beneath the tree. Pettigrew told me himself, and the little rat knows better than to lie to me. Even when he isn’t shitting his pants in my presence.”

The haughty scoff belonged to Draco’s father, and it caused a series of laughs to emerge from the group.

“Let’s get on with it, shall we? I’m ready to see the proof your proclamations, Sev.” Bella’s voice was greedy, like a cat waiting to pounce on a weaker prey. She was truly enjoying herself.

“Do you think the rest of his little gang will be there? We might want to take precaution-“

“Unless you think they’re stupid enough to get killed.” Lucius interrupted the suggestive voice of Regulus Black with an authoritative tone.  
“Besides, we’re better at magic. We know dark spells that those pathetic Gryffindors couldn’t handle. I think I am more than capable of handling Remus Lupin, even in beastly form.” He wiggled his fingers in a creepy gesture at the word ‘beast.’ As if this was all a game to him.

Regulus didn’t speak. The familiar voice of Severus Snape chimed in.

“I hate to say it, but the only one of them stupid enough to risk his life for Lupin is your brother, Black.”

“Don’t call him that. He is nothing more than a monster to me. He is no better than Lupin.” His voice dripped with hate, poison that could infect with just one drop. But Draco saw past it.

He recognized that tone. It was jealousy. Hurt. Longing for redemption. All wrapped up into one perfectly crafted insult.

Severus peered at him skeptically but seemed to let it go.

Suddenly, a louder voice pierced the night.

“What on earth are you doing out here!? It’s past curfew! All of you!”

Their focus was drawn to the redhead that had emerged from the castle doors.

“Lily, go back inside and finish your prefect rounds.” Snape demanded, his tone of voice an attempted sneer but nonetheless was disguised by worry. It was obvious that whatever they were about to do, he did not want her involved. Perhaps for the greatest reason of all: her safety.

“No! I demand you to tell me what you are doing out here before I give you all detention!”

“Listen, Evans.” Lucius stepped forward, snooty and done with their latest annoyance.

“Let me get to the point here.” He pulled out his wand and pointed it at her. Harry lurched forward instinctively, but Draco tugged him back by the robes.

“It’s a memory, Harry. You won’t be able to stop him.” The whisper was caring and concerned and the silky flow of his words lead Harry to stop in his tracks.

Draco was right. They’d have to see how this unfolded all on its own.

“There is a violent threat to this school occurring at this very moment. All students are in danger. I- we- are here to put an end to it. Dare you stop us?”

His slate eyes were drowning pools that lacked mercy. Lily hesitated.

“Wh-what is this danger you speak of, Malfoy? We should get the head master!”

“The Headmaster? He’s allowing it to happen!” Lucius spat angrily, and Lily’s green eyes were wide with a mixture of concern and disbelief.

“Just go, Lily.” Snape pleaded, and a brief expression of thought crossed her face before she agreed.

“Oh-ok. But you guys better not be getting into trouble! Or I will get the Headmaster!”

“Yes, Yes, we know. Whittle prefect,” Bellatrix mocked before Lily turned and walked away.

With the nuisance out of their way, the group continued onto the whomping willow.

Draco and Harry were motionless, frozen by disbelief.

“They’re going to ambush him.” Draco’s observation held the same sinking feeling that Harry felt in his stomach as the group found the branch that allowed them to enter beneath the tree.

“We’ve got to stop them!” His remark was reactionary, the same heroic tendency that Harry had been known to have. The one thatDraco couldn’t help but admire, stupid and rash and reckless as it was.

“How, Harry?” Draco, earnest, was ready to hear one of those Gryffindor solutions that would most likely almost get them killed but save the day anyway.

“I don’t know, um- Hermione used a time turner in third year, and we were able to alter stuff with that- there’s got to be a way to change the memory!”

“Awful things happen to wizards who-“

“Meddle with time, Harry, I know.” He rolled his eyes at Draco’s eerie likeness to Hermione in the present moment. He was grounding him, like she had tried to do so many times before. But with Draco, it was different. For some reason he couldn’t quite understand.

“Well, come on,” Draco ushered them forward. “We can’t do anything from up here.”

As they followed the Slytherins, who were just disappearing beyond the inside of the Willow, it became apparent that Lily Evans had no intention of finishing her prefect rounds that night.

She rushed forward, hiding stealthily behind a bush as she waited to follow them. Harry sighed, both proud and innately afraid for his mother. If anything, he’d know now where his stubbornness was bred from.

When the coast was clear, Lily Evans rushed for the entrance to the tree. Harry and Draco followed accordingly.

The tunnel was dark, but Lily’s lumos charm made it possible to faintly see the path to the shack.

They stuck close, able to see the gang ahead some yards away by the faded light of their own charms. Harry’s heart was pounding with each step, fearful for what would happen to the Marauders.

To Lily.

To Remus.

Draco kept up, each press of his shoe against the dirt a match to Harry’s. He didn’t have to see Draco’s face in the darkness to know that he was worried. He could feel the emotion rolling off of him as they treaded forward.

He’d never been able to do that with anyone before.

“Are we almost there? We’ve been walking for miles!” Complained Bellatrix loudly, unsure of her faith in the Marauder named Peter Pettigrew.

“What if this is a setup?” Pressed Regulus, pointed a finger at Malfoy.

“It’s not,” he snapped, and Lily froze to avoid being caught. She- along with Harry and Draco- we’re gaining on them.

“There, look, it’s a trap door. We’ve found it!” Malfoy exclaimed excitedly, making his move to enter the shack. Bellatrix cackled exuberantly, Regulus and Snape held their wands forward. Prepared.

Lily waited a few yards back for the gang to exit through the door above them. She turned off her wandlight and waited for an opportunity to arise.

Draco and Harry sped past her, no longer caring if they could see ahead. They had to protect Remus, and the animagi.

Lucius Malfoy’s intentions were far from pure. They were downright bloody.

When they emerged through the trap door, the sight before them was almost indescribable. There was no sound; only the pounding of Harry’s heart in his own ears as every detail registered and came to life.

On one side of the room was the Wolf, teeth bared and snarling in a fashion more violent than Harry had ever seen it. His hair stood up frighteningly along the back of his neck; he leaned forward in quick preparation to attack. It was like something straight from a horror movie.

Beside him was Padfoot, appearing not far different from his mate. He was a bit smaller, but just as vicious, and slobber dripped in webs from his curled, growling lips. Regardless of size, he placed his paws forward in a symbol of dominance to the intruders across from them. A symbol of his willingness to protect the wolf next to him.

There was no sign of Wormtail or Prongs anywhere. Harry’s eyes darted about, determined to land on him but coming up vastly empty. Where the fuck were the others? Had they run? That would’ve been smart, but not quite in the style of James Potter. He’d have to be around there. Somewhere.

At that moment a very human James Potter emerged through the door, wand drawn and pointed resolutely at the enemy. He walked forward slowly to join the side of his friends, eyes never losing focus of each target.

Harry felt a small involuntary sigh emerge from deep within his chest, but it didn’t do much to quell the ringing in his ears or the pounding of his pulse.

Across from the dogs was a group of suddenly scared shitless Slytherins, whose high and mighty stance had all but melted in the presence of the wolf. The only one not cowering in the slightest was their apparent leader, who held his wand high and ready to attack.

“James Potter, did you come to rescue your pet?” He taunted with a humorous glint in his eye.

From behind him, Regulus was studying the big black dog suspiciously. There was something eerily familiar about its stance. As if he’d known the dog his entire life and not met it only a few moments ago.

“This is none of your goddamn business, Malfoy. Put your head back up your own arse where it belongs and stay out of what you can’t begin to understand.”

James Potter held steady as the wand in his hand. It seemed that nothing would cause him to falter when it came to his friends.

Draco felt a sense of admiration toward Harry’s father, and he was suddenly wishing that he had more in common with him than with the man across the room.

“I can’t do that. Not when all of the precious students’ lives are at risk.” Malfoy frowned dramatically, feigning compassion at its best.

“No one’s life is at risk except your own, if you don’t leave.” He pressed, very matter-of-fact.

“Is that a threat, Potter?”

“No, you idiot! It’s a fact! You are going to get hurt if you don’t get the fuck out of here and it’s no one’s fault but your own!”

At this, Severus Snape seemed to shrink back a few steps.

Regulus, on the other hand, came forward. He slowly approached the large dog before him, eyes narrowed with sudden certainty. The growling increased, throaty and louder with each inch he came closer.

He took one more glance, pressing his nose uncomfortably close to the dog’s face. Sirius snapped, but Regulus hopped back in the nick of time. He straightened up, a combination of disgust and ire crossing his face.

“I know it’s you, Sirius. I can see it in your eyes!” He exclaimed, pointing a shaky finger toward his snout. Turning to the rest of his gang, he continued: “That dog is no canine! He’s my brother! He’s a freak just like you, Lupin!” He craned his head back to the larger wolf, who suddenly sprung forward.

The rest of the memory was on both hyper speed and complete slow motion.

Lupin’s back feet were suspended in the air as his front paws came crashing on the chest of Regulus Black. His face was more menacing and vicious than they’d seen it yet.

Sirius yelped and collapsed as Snape threw a nasty hex in the direction of his front leg.

James disarmed Bellatrix before his focus was completely torn away to the other side of the room.

Lily Evans climbed Out of the trap door and into the middle of total chaos.

Her eyes were wide as fire, and she froze momentarily at the sight of the large wolf before her. It was as if she was placing her own puzzle pieces together, matching certain thoughts and notions to the scene before her. Her fear turned rapidly into acceptance as she stepped forward.

It was Lucius Malfoy who turned his wand on her.

“What did I tell you, you brat!” He shrieked, and suddenly he was firing curses in her direction.

All of this happened before Regulus Black was tackled to the ground.

The second his back hit the hard surface of the floor, James Potter was found sprinting toward the area where Draco and Harry stood silently, Mouths agape and unable to process the battle unfolding before them.

He ran right in front of Lily, diving before her in a gesture of protection greater than any shielding spell. At once, he was doubled over on the ground before her. Green vomit spewed from his mouth, poured onto the floor. Whatever he’d tried to hit her with, it was truly a nasty spell.

Harry dived toward his father, adrenaline pushing him forward without warning. Lily was absolutely flabbergasted and knelt with an attempt to tend to James.

Draco’s eyes never left his father, whose malicious glare was closer to complete Darkness than he refused to ever be.

When Lucius Malfoy turned to a pre-occupied Lupin and raised his wand, Draco felt his own pulse hammering beyond control. His body pulled forward instinctively, like every bone in his body was tied to the deepest level of his subconscious. The layer that up until detention had been safely tucked away without the light that it would need to inevitably flourish...

“Avada Kedavra!” He screamed, and Harry’s eyes snapped upward at the sound. Everything was muffled, the commotion was silenced, the edges of his field of view were blurry. In the center of everything, he saw clear as day the complete craze, the wild ecstasy that danced successfully in Malfoy’s eyes. The beam of green light that was emitted from his wand was aimed directly at Remus Lupin.

And in between those two things was a very determined Draco Malfoy. 

“NO! YOU CANT HURT HIM!” He cried impulsively, and Harry’s thumping heart skipped a beat.

It was only a memory, it was only a memory, it was only a-

Harry blinked, then blinked again. He turned his head abruptly from side to side, then patted down his robes. He was in Dumbledore’s office.

He blinked a third time, a weak attempt to ground himself through the adrenaline and when he opened his eyes, Draco was next to him. Reacting quite similarly.

Unsure of exactly which world they had stumbled into.

“Ah, boys,” the voice of Albus Dumbledore perked both of their heads up, and it was both soothing and alarming.

What the fuck was happening? Where was Remus? His father? Sirius?

...Regulus?

“You’ve put in a long day’s work,” he stated almost proudly. “I know that visiting memories is no easy feat, and I admire your willingness to get along for this task. With that being said, it is after curfew so I recommend you both go get some sleep. Tomorrow we will continue.”

He smiled, signaling for them to leave. 

“Professor, we have to go back in! We have to-“ Harry frantically grasped at the former reality, a frail attempt made with words that seemed insignificant.

“I’m sure that whatever point in your journey you were pulled from will be saved in perfect condition for you to begin tomorrow morning.” He nodded sternly, gesturing toward the door. And Harry knew better than anyone that Dumbledore was not going to compromise.

He felt like a zombie, stuck somewhere between two completely different realities.

In this world, he was merely serving detention alongside an enemy. The boy beside him was Malfoy- most certainly not Draco. It seemed the time had come to mesh back into this life, and in order to do so he’d have to head along to Gryffindor tower and complain to Ron about what a horrible time working with the stupid git was.

But that’s not what he wanted.

He wanted the reality where Malfoy had become Draco- where those gray eyes had locked into his own for moments at a time. Where they’d laughed together, and ironically created their own memories.

He quickly tried to piece together what had happened, to formulate the memory they’d been jerked out of. 

Remus was pinning down Regulus, whether he’d intended to or not.

His father had been cursed by a man that wanted nothing more than to see Remus Lupin dead. He’d done that in order to save his mother.

Peter Pettigrew had fled the scene before conflict could take place.

And in the midst of it all, the most prevalent thing in his mind was the image of Draco running forward, against his father. For someone other than himself. Purely out of instinct.

It was everything he’d fallen in love with along the way.

It was this fact that had him feeling empty, like he’d left a piece of himself back in the pensieve. With Draco.

He slowly turned, approaching the staircase. Unable to look him in the eye.

He’d made it down the spiral steps and was exiting beyond the large stone gargoyle when he heard a voice behind him.

“H-Harry?”

His heart stopped, just like it had in the memory. And suddenly all of his emotions came flooding back like rain. He pivoted back, and when his pulse returned it was fluttering rapidly.

Standing at the base of the staircase was Draco. Not Malfoy, no, not at all. His robes were dusty from the adventure, sharp cheeks rounded by humility. His eyes were the shade of a gentle cloud that continued to pour.

Harry stopped, breath quickening.

“Yeah?” He asked stupidly, unable to string together much else.

“Are you going to be able to sleep?” The words were a whisper, an edgeless confession.

“Probably not,” he admitted honestly. After everything that had happened, sleep was the last thing on his mind.

“Yeah... me either.” He stepped forward, then paused, fidgeting. It was so uncharacteristically Draco; it seemed out of place in this world. Harry was suddenly determined not to lose it.

“Do you wanna maybe... go to the astronomy tower instead?”

Draco nodded without hesitation. “Yeah, I-I’d like that.”

The walk up the stairs was silent. They’d made careful not to be caught (as if they weren’t in enough trouble already) and now that they’d arrived it seemed like another reality entirely. Like they’d entered another memory.

The crisp night air was clear; the sky was a royal blue painted with stars. Harry immediately became entranced by it and headed to the rail for a better look.

When Draco followed and perched himself upon the same rail, Harry thought his stomach would flutter away. He’d never been scared of heights, and it was most definitely not the view down that caused butterflies to lurch energetically about his abdomen.

No, it was the way his pale blonde hair reflected in the moonlight as Harry threw a sideways look in his direction. It was the humble expression he wore, like he’d left his rottenness to die in a memory. Like he could finally become a potions master, if that’s what he really wanted. Like none of it mattered anymore.

It was quiet for a while, both lost in their own interpretations of what had happened that day.

“Do you think he ended up okay? Remus?” It was Draco who’d finally dared to bring up what they’d just been pulled from.

“I dont know. I mean, I guess he’d have to be... right? I...I hope so.”

Another moment of silence.

“Your father was a very brave man, you know. I didn’t have to live back then to see that.”

Harry turned, somewhat shaken by the kindness. “Thanks. I hope I can be half the man that he was.”

“You are.”

There were those piercing steel irises again, locked into place like a key that left Harry wide open.

His mouth was bone dry, words lost on the desert of his tongue. And then, like some kind of miraculous rain, his drought ended with the honesty that had been pulling at his gut all day.

“So are you.”

“Half the man my father was?” Draco asked, a playful smirk pulling at his lips.

“No, you twat. My father.”

“Oh, ok. I don’t have to wear the glasses though, do I? I mean those things are god awful, and-“

Harry’s laughter was the greatest of interruptions, and it was returned by a rather toothy grin from across.

No matter what was bound to happen in detention’s reality, Harry vowed silently to hold onto this one tonight.


	8. Chapter 8

The astronomy tower was far less elusive in the daylight, beams of sunshine flooding over the rails and banishing the shadows.

It trickled beyond the bricks of the castle, shed light to the edge of the spiral staircase leading up to its tallest point. It also ever so softly landed on two boys who had most inconveniently overslept.

Harry was the first to open his eyes, glasses still on but skewed crookedly across the bridge of his nose. He blinked a few times, disoriented and confused. He couldn’t recall falling asleep, let alone waking. Had he taken a nap? Why wasn’t he in the dormitory?

And then, like a train that hit him at lightning speed, memories began to flash through his mind. Lack of sleep. Detention. The Marauders. Lucius Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. The astronomy tower. Draco...

It was the light snoring and a subtle pressure against his left pectoral muscle that caught his attention next. His train of thought came crashing as rapidly as it had arrived at what he saw and... felt.

Sleeping softly, head nestled against his chest, was Draco Malfoy. His breath was a gentle tickle through his shirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps beneath the fabric. He was also... drooling, a bit, and Harry caught his own lips tugging upward at the sight.

It was beautiful. He was absolutely stunning, lying peacefully against Harry, and something about it just felt more right than anything else in the whole wretched world.

He twitched subtly, rubbing his cheek against the Gryffindor crest of Harry’s robes. He wasn’t totally sure, but a part of him swore that Draco’s lips turned upward in his slumber. As if he liked laying there as much as Harry enjoyed every piece of his presence.

The next few moments were spent stupidly captivated by the bloke against him, wondering if he’d died and gone to heaven. A heaven that would’ve been hell just a few days ago.

And yet, here they were. All because of...

“DETENTION. FUCK!” Harry sat up quickly, startling Malfoy as he attempted to figure out the time. As light as it was, it had to be...8:30? 9? Either way, they were late.

Draco shook his head, trying to figure out what Harry’d spent the past few minutes enjoying. He blinked, and glanced around, suddenly coming to a similar conclusion that they were tardy and stood up hastily.

“Potter, did I- was I- were we-?” He stuttered, trying impossibly to spit out the words. Harry was stifling a laugh. Side by side they ran to the headmasters office. Under the circumstances, normally Harry would’ve been fearful or at least regretful of his mistake. But not this time.

“Yes, you were. We did. At least I think so, anyway.” He chuckled as they approached the large gargoyle that hopped aside as he muttered the password.

Draco hadn’t had nearly enough time to process it, but Harry’s humor was a comforting and oddly placed beacon in the storm that would become their punishment. Obviously, something had gone right. Even if they were teetering on the edges of expulsion.

When they burst open the door to Dumbledore’s office, however, it wasn’t quite what they had expected to be greeted by.

Huffing and puffing, the boys straightened up at the sight of an almost pleased Dumbledore, stirring his tea wandlessly with a circular motion of his finger. His gaze was fixed beyond the room, as if he was contemplating something much bigger than the boys missing from detention.

“Professor, we-“ surprisingly, it was Draco who attempted to explain, but he stopped when Dumbledore waved a hand at them.

“I hope you both enjoyed the rather late breakfast that was served this morning. I do apologize, those house elves, they’re always so punctual, but something I’m afraid must’ve come over them...”  
His voice trailed off, along with his gaze, and Harry and Draco peered at each other with confused but grateful eyes.

“Anyway,” Dumbledore snapped from his contemplative state and turned to the pensieve. “Are you ready for another day?”

Harry caught himself gulping. He was ready to find out the truth, or to do his best to change it. But now that he and Draco approached the stone bowl, wisps of memories permeating the air above it, a shallow pit of fear was tugging at his abdomen.

An understanding look was shared between them and Draco nodded, determined. And suddenly, their world was shifting again.

It was as if they’d never left. Every minute detail was as it had been the previous night, just like Dumbledore promised. They were thrust in the center of a frozen scene; it was as if time ceased to exist altogether.

Lily’s look of concern was tight against her face; the expression in Regulus Black’s eyes was nothing short of fear.

Harry shot a glance across the room at Draco, who’d landed exactly where he’d placed himself: between his father and Remus Lupin.

And suddenly, it was as if some unseen omnipotent being hit the play button. Like they were all puppets on a string, dancing at the snap of a finger or the flick of a wand.

Time resumed at normal speed but Harry swore everything was moving faster.

At once, his father was vomiting. Lily was patting a gentle hand on his back, trying to prevent him from aspirating.

Regulus was screaming as Lupin held him down and barked in the air between their faces.

Severus and Bellatrix were immobile.

Black was yelping.

Malfoy was grinning.

And, then, the moment Harry had feared somewhere deep inside of him was occurring. As the burst of green light resonated from Malfoy’s Wand, Draco made no move to avoid it. He simply stood there, resolute, in an act of rebellion against everything he’d ever been taught by the man before him.

Harry watched intently, aware that he had little resources with which to act. He expected the light to permeate through his newest friend, to head straight for Remus in a moment that meant they had failed.

But that wasn’t going to happen. That couldn’t happen. Harry’s heart hammered at the prospect of what would become. Remus Lupin was alive and well outside of this memory so the killing curse would have little merit here.

But if it didn’t strike the heart of the wolf, ending its veracity with the darkest of magic, then... what would it?

Unless, no, impossibly...

“Draco!” Harry whimpered pathetically, just a second too late. Because across the room from him, that same green light was absorbed by Draco’s chest. In a fit of adrenaline, Harry lurched forward with the intent of catching him. If this is what was happening, what was truly occurring, then Draco would fall backward, that same determined expression permanently fixed upon his face.

But Draco, in less than a moment, had vanished. And Harry stood, arms outstretched into thin air, wondering what the fuck had just happened as everything came back into focus.

It suddenly became evident to everyone in the room just what Lucius Malfoy had just done.

James spit up the last of the vomit curse and hurriedly pointed his wand at Lucius. “Incarcerous!”

Lily, aware of Regulus Black’s accusation, headed to Padfoot to cast a soft healing charm on his leg. With a thankful glance in her direction and a quick lick to the face, he jumped to Remus and sunk his teeth into the loose skin of his back. He then pulled, and eventually the two toppled over each other while Regulus scooted back impetuously. He scrambled to his feet while Padfoot kept Moony calm.

He then turned to his friends, who were currently held at Wand point by a now standing James and Lily.

“Why didn’t you help me!?” He yelled dramatically, offended beyond belief that the people he’d chosen over his brother hadn’t come to his rescue. Like James would’ve.

“Well, forgive me, Black, but it appears that Bella and I are a little... preoccupied?” Snape lifted his hands in the air in a gesture of sarcastic surrender. 

“Preoccupied my arse, Severus!” Lily called passionately as she held her wand steady, and James couldn’t help but beam at her decision to stand up to him. “You guys came here to hurt poor Remus! And you will all be punished!”

“You knew?” Regulus spat confusedly from behind them.

“Nobody told me. I figured it out on my own. He’s not hurting anyone, so why can’t you leave him be?”

“Because he’s an abomination!” The words belonged to Lucius, who, though bound, was still able to speak.

“He doesn’t deserve to practice magic. And neither do you...” He paused, giving the redhead a thorough once over from head to toe. “...Mudblood.”

His words were the venom straight from the snake, and even Lily’s confident demeanor seemed to crumble a bit.

It was clear that James wanted to hex him into oblivion, but it was Sirius who morphed back into human form for his revenge.

Gasps rang from the offensive side of the room. Regulus screamed: “I fucking told you!”

And Sirius Black wasted no time in slinging hexes in Lucius Malfoy’s direction. Beside him, Remus Lupin sat calmly in wolf form.

“I-I don’t get it. Why isn’t he killing him!?” Regulus cried, almost angry that the wolf wasn’t attacking his brother like it had him.

“He won’t hurt him.” Was all James stated. The rest was obvious to anyone.

Even to Harry, who was still mindfully searching for any sign of Draco to no avail. It was as if he’d never been there in the first place.

Regulus Black’s whiny demeanor suddenly shifted into something more maniacal. “When I get to the Headmaster first, and I tell him that you’re unregistered animagi... you’re all going to jail. You’re all going to rot!” He cackled loudly, almost on the brink of insanity himself. “And Lupin? He won’t make it that far. They’ll execute him before he gets to trial!”

And then, in a fit of passion and rage, Sirius Black turned his wand on his brother.

James and Lily held on the others, unaware of what was about to occur. Sirius was angry, Moreso than James had ever seen him. If he wasn’t careful, they really would all end up in Azkaban.

“Sirius!” He called, but he’d already approached his brother and was now standing eye to eye with what was supposed to be his family.

“I am done with you, Regulus.” He stated, and the words hung thick and heavy in the air. And then, his wand was pointed forward.

“Obliviate!” He called, and then rapidly turned to Severus and Bellatrix. “Obliviate! Obliviate!” And finally to Malfoy. “OBLIVIATE!”

Sirius was Crying, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. His chest heaved with emotion and adrenaline. He’d acted purely on instinct and an in-depth knowledge that this would not end well for anyone involved.

James and Lily lowered their wands, gobsmacked.

Remus, as if running on his own animal instinct, fled the room. Without hesitation, Sirius transformed back to canine form and followed.

Peter was still nowhere to be found.

Harry glanced back and forth, taking in the scene before him, trying to comprehend not only what was happening but also what in the fuck happened to Draco.

“We’ve got to tell the Headmaster,” Lily squeaked, trying with all of her logic and reason to remain calm.

“Send him a Patronus, Lily. I know it’s difficult magic, but you’ve done it before. I’ve seen you practice.” James’s tone was soft and caring, like the world depended on Lily’s magical ability and that he had not a trace of doubt that she would succeed.

Subtly, she nodded. Her lids fluttered shut as she focused, raising her wand and softly whispering “expecto patronum.”

A gentle white whisp emerged from the tip of her wand, morphing like smoke into the shape of a small doe.

Her eyes remained shut as she intently transferred pieces of her memory to the magic, and with a flick of her wand the doe trotted through the wall of the shack. James was awestruck, completely captivated by her beauty and talent. She exchanged a humble smile with him after opening her eyes, and the energy between them seemed to Radiate warmth through the entire shack.

Severus Snape regaining consciousness is what brought them back to harsh reality.

“Wh- where are we? Potter? What in the hell is going on? Did you take us captive?” He immediately became defensive, and James raised his hands in an attempt to calm him.

“No, Snivellus, Relax. We were... hanging out? Remember?”

“Please, Potter. Like I’d spend any time with you that wasn’t forced upon me.” He turned to see Malfoy still bound and confused on the floor. Apparently the combination of magic had taken a harder toll on him.

“What did you do to him!? Potter!” Snape drew his wand before he could answer. He stuttered a bit, hands still raised in surrender. It was at this moment that Bellatrix and Regulus began to stir.

“Sev, put your wand down! I promise I’ll explain later!” Lily pleaded, and for a moment, he hesitated, until his gaze softened at her request.

“Is this... the shrieking shack?” Regulus asked observantly, but before anyone could answer, the sound of a door opening stole the spotlight.

Through the alcove stepped Albus Dumbledore with a calm and collected manner that was almost contagious. The entire room was silenced by his presence.

“Mr. Potter, Ms. Evans, would you two please kindly escort your peers to the infirmary? It will be a long walk through Hogsmeade but I feel that it is worth it.” His eyes told the story his words lacked: keep the hidden passage secret.

They nodded wordlessly as Lily gestured to Regulus, Bellatrix, and Snape. James crossed to Malfoy, who remained incarcerated until he cast a quick reinervate.

Harry watched as they all exited, holding his breath. From the next room, he swore he heard the soft whimpering of a scared wolf, though the others seemed to pay it no mind.

He felt like vomiting. What was going to happen? Was Sirius’s memory charm advanced enough to permanently erase their memories of Remus? Where the fuck was Draco? Harry refused to lose him. There had to be a way... he had to be around here somewhere...tucked away safely in a...

Memory. He perked up as the walls shifted, distorting into another scene.

He was in Dumbledore’s office, which apparently hadn’t changed much. Before him were James, Remus, Sirius, and Lily, all perched before the headmaster’s desk.

“What happened is an atrocity,” he stated, and the group held their gazes low.

“Ms. Evans, you followed trouble and it led you to danger. And as for you two,” he gestured to Sirius and James, “I’m not sure what encouraged you to enter that shack, but you put everyone’s lives at risk by being there. Including Mr. Lupin’s.”

He paused, and no one dared to speak.

“Your memory charms were surprisingly astute, Mr. Black. But nonetheless illegal, and hazardous. I am very thankful that you did not inflict everlasting damage on your fellow classmates, regardless of the wrongs they committed. I am very disappointed in you all.”

He frowned at the four, but his eyes held something promising.

“However, your determination and loyalty to protect your friend is what Godric Gryffindor himself would have stood for. You each put yourself in harm’s way at the cost of protecting Mr. Lupin and his secret. And, for that, I commend you all.”

He adjusted his spectacles before lacing his fingers and resting them on the desk before him.

“Now. The memory charms have been successful to their intent. The only one who recalled any reason of how they got into the shack that night was Mr. Snape, and he has been sworn to silence. He remembers his own speculations, but no evidence remains in his psyche. The rest are convinced that that you all snuck out separately and ended up in the shack after you began quarreling. Can I trust that you will continue to protect Mr. Lupin’s secret to the best of your ability?”

He hardly waited for a response, but a series of nods accompanied his question. “Good. Now this will not happen again. Life will continue as if it did not occur. Consider yourselves redeemed under the preface of a second chance. And it is imperative that you use it wisely. You you may go now.”

Harry watched the jolted expression of Lily, who seemed stuck between a grateful sigh of relief and an anxiety attack. He saw his father slide a hand around the small of her back as he led her down the stairs and to toward the exit.

Remus was quiet but flashed Sirius an almost apologetic look before leaving with him.

Harry expected the walls to shift, to feel his body tug and lurch as he would be thrown into another memory. He closed his eyes, attempting to make sense of the thousands of panicked thoughts that raced through his mind.

Where the fuck was Draco? Could a killing curse, even in the midst of a memory, still inflict irreparable damage to its victim?

Was he even... alive? The word, even in his thoughts, seemed choked. No, Draco couldn’t go. Not like this. Not when he’d just broken free... not when he’d been given, like the Marauders, his own... second chance...

No. Harry wouldn’t have it. Draco Malfoy was alive and breathing and impossibly stuck somewhere in the pensieve. And he needed Harry’s help.

The lack of motion caused him to open his eyes, but a change of scenery had yet to occur. He glanced around Dumbledore’s office, puzzled and confused as to why he remained here, watching the younger Headmaster scribble mindlessly with a quill at his desk.

He tilted his head, glancing about the room for some sort of answer to a question he wasn’t sure had been asked. And then, an idea occurred to him.

“Professor Dumbledore? Can you hear me?” He asked aloud, in somewhat of a dumb fashion, grasping for anything that would lead him to the missing Malfoy.

Harry’s heart stopped momentarily as if by the grace of something holy Dumbledore had heard him. He paused, looking in Harry’s direction for a split second before continuing his work.

“Professor! I need your help!” He cried desperately, clinging to the hope that his wish had been granted. But Dumbledore didn’t flinch, eyes following the parchment before him religiously.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself before approaching the desk. It felt odd being there, like he was intruding on something private. Regardless, Draco needed him. And sometimes the ends could very well justify the means.

With this in mind, Harry began to sift through the objects on his desk, searching for anything that might be a clue. He turned to the bookshelf, running his hand along the spine of several works, eyeing the titles for anything regarding memories or the pensieve. Failure seemed imminent, and he turned to make sure that nothing around him had changed.

Dumbledore remained perched at his desk, almost robotic. The world seemed stable enough, so Harry decided to keep looking. Where was Hermione when he needed her? She’d know exactly where to research this type of problem. And she’d show him, and then he’d fly in on the latest firebolt and save Draco from whatever reality he was stuck in.

And Draco Malfoy would be so grateful that he’d hug him. That’s right, they’d hug. And then he’d gaze deeply into those gray eyes, and...

Something caught his attention, flickering from his peripheral vision. He stopped immediately, pivoting to the source that was a cabinet across the room. 

He approached it rapidly, peering at an unchanged Dumbledore before throwing open the door to reveal white and gray wisps of magic emanating outward. They tangled like snakes through the air, reaching forward in a fashion similar to woodsmoke.

It was a pensieve.

Harry quickly removed the basin from its post, not pausing long to wonder what in the fuck the implications would be of messing with an object crafted purely of memory.

Was Draco somewhere in another memory? If he was, would this help him find out?

He had no vials, no memories from his own psyche, nothing to pour into the pensieve that he thought would lead him to the blonde.

Instead, he quickly and recklessly decided to risk diving in anyway. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, touching his nose to the substance that poured outward.

“Draco, take me to Draco,” he thought, as if the pensieve was the Room of Hidden Things, as if by merely requesting the boy he’d stumble upon him.

And suddenly his stomach lurched, and he felt himself falling head first into darkness. There was no up, or down, and he wasn’t quite sure which direction he was heading toward anymore. There was only darkness, and the sinking feeling in his stomach that something wasn’t quite right.

It seemed an eternity had passed before he felt a hard surface come into contact with his face. It was painful, even in the state of a memory. He’d landed on his stomach, head first into a world unknown.

Everything remained coated in pitch black darkness. He groaned, adjusting his glasses merely by touch as he pulled himself to a standing position. Extending his arms forward, he wondered what in the hell he was going to do next, when the world began to brighten.

Slowly light filtered through the darkness like a sunrise, and it wasn’t even fully illuminated before he began to hear voices.

“Daddy! Daddy, look! I made a potion! It’s got magic, I swear!”

The boy couldn’t have been any older than eight. Harry listened intently as the sky began to reveal itself, and then the surroundings. They were in a garden, a very fancy and high-maintenance arrangement of hedges and flowers that seemed to go on for miles.

Before him was the boy, tugging on the robes of an adult.

Harry couldn’t see his face, but in the boy’s hand was a bowl. An ordinary vessel, it seemed, except that within it was a conglomeration of leaves and twigs and other things that a child would play with.

The striking thing about it was that they were floating. The ingredients to his “potion” floated about an inch above the bowl, and Harry wondered if the boy was a wizard like himself. He was far too young to channel his power, but perhaps it was one of those odd things that happened to magical children. Like the time that Harry’s hair kept growing back every time Aunt Petunia would cut it, or even the vanishing glass at the zoo.

Regardless, the boy seemed extremely proud of his accomplishment. His very own “potion” that he’d made all by himself.

The man whose long, dark robes he was tugging on refused to turn.

“Not now,” he stated icily, “I have very important business matters to attend to. Can’t you see that I’m busy?”

He still couldn’t see the boy’s face, but the slump of his shoulders gave away his disappointment and blatant disheartenment. Harry wanted to stomp up to the man, to ask him what the hell was so important that he couldn’t pay attention to his son.

He’d have given anything to be with his own father, so the scenario before him hit him in a sort of sensitive spot. Anger flared throughout his being.

And when the boy turned, Harry noticed the familiar color of his irises. Slate gray, like the sky on an overcast day...

He began to walk away, until the man called after him.

“Draco? Don’t forget that you have French lessons in an hour. If you need anything before then, call the house elves.”

And with that, Lucius Malfoy disapparated.

Harry’s stomach was balled into a knot, a solid match to his fists. How dare he? How fucking dare he?

And then another thought occurred to him, through his fury. Whose memory was this, but Draco’s?

And if he was in Draco’s memory... what had become of him? Was he that much closer to finding him? Or was this all some kind of twisted, whimsical game of the pensieve?

Harry watched the boy, without a single tear, kick the bowl and break it before heading back inside.


	9. Chapter 9

He didn’t dare move. He held his breath even, kept his eyes glued wide open as the world shifted. He felt like he was on the right path, a trail that would lead him to his victory. But it also felt thin, and fragile, like each memory teetered on the edge of oblivion.

All he knew, all he could think about, was how his heart broke in several places for the boy before him. And that somehow, that boy grew up to be Draco Malfoy. And suddenly everything was very clear and understandable, and Harry felt like a git for ever picking a fight with the bloke.

For never taking a moment to understand.  
For being the selfish, unable to see two-feet-in-front of him kind of guy that he was. That he wouldn’t be anymore.

The boy was a bit older now, maybe 10? 11? He was dressed in rather fancy wizard’s attire, the kind of thing your parents would put you in when they’re trying to impress someone. He appeared absolutely miserable as he scratched at the itchy fabric.

“Now, Draco, remember what we talked about. No funny business tonight. Your father will be very upset if you embarrass him.” The voice belonged to Narcissa Malfoy, and she scooped to one knee to adjust her son’s collar. She paused, meeting eyes with him and sighing before she stood.

“Come here. It’ll all be fine.” She pulled him in for a brief hug, a soft smile on her lips. “Now, run along. The guests will be here soon.”

The boy nodded as he unwrapped his arms from his mother. It was clear that their relationship was much more familial than that of his father’s. Harry was suddenly very grateful for Narcissa’s presence in his life, blinded as she may be by her husband’s beliefs.

Draco did as he was told and scurried to another room to bide his time until company arrived.

When they did, Harry was floored by the sheer elegance of it all. It was obvious that every family arriving came from more money than he could comprehend. They entered in flowing gowns and starched wizard robes, placing their coats briskly in the arms of an overloaded house elf.

He couldn’t help but notice the presence of two other children that seemed about Draco’s age arriving in similar attire.

One was a shorter girl with shoulder length black hair and a sneer that would put you in your place without a word.

Harry immediately recognized her. Pansy Parkinson.

When she laid eyes on Draco, her face positively lit up. “Darling!” She gasped, throwing her arms around him.

He chuckled, wrapping his own arms around her. Harry had known that the Slytherins were close, but he had no idea that they’d grown up together.

The other boy was a dark skinned bloke whose demeanor was much more suave than anyone of his age.

“Blaise!” Pansy cried excitedly as he separated from his parents, who made their way to the elvish wine and horderves.

“Hey guys,” he spoke, tilting his head upwArd with intent. “What do you say we make this boring soirée a little bit fun?”

“I’m listening,” Pansy raised her brows with a smirk, folding her arms.

“All ears, my friend,” Draco added. It was evident that they’d all been dragged to these social events one too many times.

“What do you say we... sneak some of the adult beverages?”

Draco’s eyes widened. “How do you expect us to get away with that?”

Pansy flipped her hair. “Whatever you’ve got in mind, I’m game.”

“Perfect. Because I’ve got the greatest plan.” His grin was both menacing and oddly charming as they came close into a huddle.

Harry couldn’t quite hear the details, but in the next moment Pansy was begging her parents for permission to go into the garden as a distraction while Blaise snagged an entire bottle of the finest elvish wine from atop a nearby counter and stuffed it into his robes.

Draco watched from afar, shaking his head with a smile. They may have been daring, but they were his friends, and it was obvious that he’d trust them with his life.

After enough whining on Pansy’s part, the three were granted permission to leave the vicinity in favor of the garden outside.

Once they were out of ear shot of any stragglers, Blaise removed their prize and wiggled his eyebrows. Pansy lept up and down excitedly; Draco nervously shuffled his feet.

“Come on, Dray,” Blaise pried, picking up on his hesitation immediately. “They won’t catch us. And even if they do, I mean... what’s the worst that could happen?”

Draco gulped, fully aware of what would happen if he was caught disobeying. He wondered if his friends were punished in the same fashion or if this was one of the few things that separated them. After a long moment of contemplation, his desire to be free outweighed his fear of his father.

In a fit of spontaneity, he took the bottle from Blaise and downed a much larger gulp than he intended.

By the exasperated and sour look that crossed his face, Harry was sure the alcohol had burned on the way down.

Blaise and Pansy giggled excitedly before taking the bottle into their own hands.

They didn’t even down half of it before it became uncomfortably obvious that they were drunk. Harry was sure it was their tiny stature and pre-pubescent livers that had done them in.

If they would’ve kept to themselves, snorting and hiccuping wildly within their own trio, perhaps the night would’ve turned out differently.

But when Pansy decided she wanted a snack, and thought the best idea was to sneak back inside with an unsteady gait, things quickly turned south.

She was immediately caught giggling and swaying back and forth. What truly let down her facade, however, was the next moment in which she turned and hurled right in the middle of the foyer.

Draco and Blaise froze under the scrutiny of every adult in the room. They had, in fact, been busted.

Pansy and Blaise were grounded, sure, resulting in a lonely Draco Malfoy not receiving owls from any of his friends.

That wasn’t the worst part, though.

It wasn’t the hurtful words of his father, ringing like a screeching alarm clock on repeat throughout his brain. Telling him he was a failure, a nuisance, an embarrassment.

His mother wasn’t present. Harry contemplated the significance of her absence while watching Draco cower before his father.

“Crucio.”

The word struck like lightning, radiating fire throughout his entire being. Harry watched his joints stiffen, bending unnaturally as they tried to cope with the pain. He’d hit the floor now, gnashing his teeth and quite obviously holding his breath.

Harry wanted to lurch forward; every instinctive twinge within him twisted into an unsteady knot at the sight of Draco Malfoy being tortured. He never thought he’d feel this way, not in a million years did he picture himself gritting his own teeth as he watched a much younger version of his enemy begin to leak tears from a reddened face.

He thought it would end, but the wand held steady as the punishment continued. Harry couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think as his own body subconsciously flexed and tightened at every muscle. Discomfort turned to anger in a flashing fury as he watched the malicious glint reflect from Lucius Malfoy’s gaze.

This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t right. This was far worse than anything Harry had experienced with the Dursley’s, and he would’ve never guessed that Lucius Malfoy’s number one fan would be at the receiving end of such magic.

All of Draco’s bigoted behavior suddenly made sense now. Like pieces clicking in place, Harry saw clear as day through his mind’s eye every insult thrown his way, every sneer sent in his direction. The blood supremacist jabs toward Hermione; the monetary bias toward Ron. Every single one of them was a front. An attempt to win at the game his father was playing, and he never even had a chance.

The whole thing made him feel both a sharp twinge of empathy mixed with regret. How different would things have been if he’d opened his eyes?

Draco Malfoy held more in common with his own Godfather than he’d ever thought possible. And up until detention- up until these very memories- he’d followed the path of Regulus Black. But now, now that he’d forcibly placed himself between his own father and a Gryffindor- Harry knew he held more in common with the eldest Black than he ever would’ve credited him for.

It was both an awe inspiring and beautiful revelation.

And Harry had to find Draco. He had to follow the memories to find the boy that never had a choice. He had to profess everything he’d learned so far to him, every last detail that’d suddenly lit up his world like lighting in the middle of a storm. A storm that held the same pastel gray as Draco’s eyes...

Harry gulped as the memory came to a close. There was no denying it now. Harry Potter had fallen most deeply in love with Draco Malfoy.


	10. Chapter 10

One environment faded into another entirely, and Harry was interested to see that he’d landed in the midst of the Slytherin common room. It was dark, and the fire blazed an unlikely green flame.

It reminded him far too much of Snape’s old potion classroom for his liking.

“So, Draco, Who are you going to the Yule Ball with?” A slender girl with dirty blonde hair crossed her legs as she made herself comfortable next to the Malfoy heir. Harry immediately recognized her as Daphne Greengrass, another Slytherin in their year.

“I haven’t asked anyone yet,” he admitted coldly, clearly more interested in the potions textbook he was studying than her flirtatious demeanor.

“Well,” she scooted a bit closer, “Are you planning on asking anyone in particular?”

Her eyelashes batted ridiculously, and an almost audible eye roll came from Pansy Parkinson, who was seated by the fire with her own homework.

“If he hasn’t asked you, Greengrass, I would assume that it’s because he hasn’t wanted to?” She raised her brows condescendingly, and Daphne huffed.

“It’s not like you’ve been asked, Pansy!” She crossed her arms defensively, and Pansy chuckled.

“But you don’t see me getting desperate, either, do you, dear?” She leaned over her book and eyed her challengingly.

Daphne was clearly at a loss for words, and Draco seized the opportunity flawlessly.

“Hey, Pans, want to be my date to the Yule ball?”

Self-appeased, Pansy grinned. “Sounds like a lovely time. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They laughed hysterically when Daphne left the room.

Harry had no idea that Slytherins were close like Gryffindors. He knew they stuck together and formed cliques- but the friendship between Pansy and Draco wasn’t far from his own with Hermione. This both puzzled and delighted him unexpectedly. It was like he was peering into a world that only existed when he wasn’t around. It was an odd circumstance, and it left him feeling somewhat fuzzy. Probably because his window into the world of Draco Malfoy was only making him fall harder.

The memory morphed into a considerably brighter scene. It was the Great Hall, adorned with decorations and the swift movement of dancing bodies.

Harry recognized it immediately. In the center of the room was a shocking image of himself dancing awkwardly with Parvati Patil. His hair was much shaggier, he was much shorter, and Harry cringed at just how unnatural he appeared with his housemate.

Was that really how it happened?

His eyes fell to the sidelines, where a bitter Draco Malfoy stood gossiping with his date.

“Looks like Potter got himself a hot date,” Pansy prodded, and Draco smirked.

“He’s miserable.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Would you look at him? He’s absolutely dreading dancing with her. It’s wonderful.”

“If you say so.”

Harry cocked his head at Draco’s uncanny knowledge of just exactly how he felt while dancing.

It was as if he’d known all along.

Harry shook the thought from his mind and continued to observe the night.

“Granger’s looking good, huh?”

“Better than usual, that’s for sure.”

“Better than me?”

Draco rolled his eyes with a smile. “Of course not. We’re prettier than all of them combined.”

She cackled accordingly.

In the next moment, Blaise has approached arm in arm with his own date, who was ironically a very smug Daphne.

“Having fun yet?” He asked suavely, and Pansy nodded her head at them both, a facetious undertone to her gesture.

“Of course.”

There was an awkward silence as Daphne eyed them both, clearly scrutinizing their companionship.

And then, she spoke. “I’m going to get something to drink.”

As she headed toward the refreshments, Draco shook his head playfully. “What in the hell were you thinking, Zabini?”

“Thinking? More like doing. And that’s what I’m going to be doing before the end of tonight.” He wiggled his eyebrows as he gestured to the back of Daphne Greengrass pouring her own punch.

Pansy giggled. “You are relentless, my dear friend!”

“Just be safe, Blaise. You never know what you might... catch.” Draco drawled sarcastically while Pansy buckled over.

“Is that jealousy, I hear from your virginal arse?” Blaise flashed him a grin as Greengrass returned with her drink.

“Blaise? Dance?” She half demanded, and as they turned to enter the dance floor, he gave one last face to his friends.

He gestured first to himself, then to the girl pulling him along, and then to a spot right between his legs while he nodded his head crudely.

Draco couldn’t help but laugh as Pansy smirked. What a friendship they shared.

Harry took a moment to notice the obvious similarity between the Slytherins and the Marauders. They were different in most ways, but something about their closeness...their laughter...was eerily alike.

He watched as the night continued. He saw himself sitting in a corner, bored, with Ron as he bitterly moped about Hermione and Viktor Krum. Meanwhile, Draco had invited Pansy to ditch the ball in favor of a walk (“or something, I’m absolutely dying of boredom.”)

Together they snuck out of the Great Hall, and Harry followed earnestly. It was much more entertaining than re-living his own experience at the Yule Ball.

After walking about the rose garden casually for a while, the two sat on a stone bench to blow off some steam.

“I’d call tonight a success, wouldn’t you?” Pansy speculated, lying back against the surface of cool stone.

“what do you mean?” Draco sat with his elbows propped on his knees, eyeing the garden absentmindedly.

“Well, we got the heck out of there,” she started counting off of her fingers, “Potter was (according to you) miserable with his date, and Blaise-y is probably getting his freak on as we speak.”

She sat up as the two joined in on a complimentary guffaw. Harry couldnt help but notice how easily things seemed to flow between them.

“Pans, do you ever think that maybe you and me should be together?” Draco asked as their laughter quelled.

“You’re going to have to elaborate, darling.”

“It just seems like things work between us. And Blaise will fuck anything that walks, and Potter’s head over heels for that damn Cho Chang girl but she’s clearly into Diggory...”

“Pathetic, really,” Pansy agreed and nodded for him to continue.

Harry blushed. Even the Slytherins had known he was into her? What an embarrassment.

“Everything’s so complicated. But we just work. Shouldn’t that mean we’re meant to be?”

Pansy cocked her head sideways as she too mulled over the idea.

“I guess I’ve never really thought about it, to be honest.” She laid her head on his shoulder, a platonic gesture she’d done dozens of times before.

“I mean, I’ve never really... liked... anyone,” Draco confessed. “Is that odd?”

“A little,” Pansy admitted with a smile. He couldn’t help but chuckle at her honesty. When silence befell them, Pansy leaned forward.

“Well, what do you say we find out?”

“How? Like, we date?”

“No, silly, we kiss.”

“Oh.”

Harry could contain his giggle no longer. He’d never expected Draco to be just as awkward in these situations as he was.

Pansy laughed too before closing the space between them, pressing her lips cautiously against Draco’s. He held frozen, clearly inexperienced and unsure of what to do next.

Or what he wanted to do next.

Pansy parted her lips, and he followed out of curiosity. The way she moved was normal, expected even, but he was chaste against her. He brought a hand to her cheek, attempting to pull themselves deeper into the kiss. His gesture was a raw attempt at forcing the pieces to fit regardless of his own inhibition.

Eventually, Pansy pulled back.

“So, uh... I felt nothing.”

“You didn’t?”

“Sorry, Darling.”

“What should we have felt?”

“Oh, Draco.” She placed her hands on each of his shoulders. “Butterflies. A whirlwind of emotion. A longing to never let each other go.” She drew her words dramatically, banking on the edges of hopeless romance. And then, she laughed.

Draco laughed too. But he was confused more than anything. As his gaze took the floor, Pansy settled into a seriousness that only they seemed to share.

“Draco, love, have you ever considered that you may...be interested in something else?”

“What do you mean?”

Pansy sighed before meeting eyes with her best friend. “Draco, honey, are you gay?”

He was immediately taken aback but didn’t speak. It was as if there were no words to say.

He could deny it, even though he’d never given thought to the prospect of his sexuality. Or he could take this opportunity to figure out something about himself he’d been subconsciously denying all along.

“I... I don’t know... I mean, I can’t be... you know my father would...”

“Kill you, Yes.” She took both of his hands in hers and squeezed them tight. “But honestly, Draco, fuck your father. You deserve to be happy, no matter who you end up with.”

It was evident that he didn’t know what to say, or how to feel. It was as if Pansy had unlocked a whole new world that he’d yet to explore. He smiled softly.

“Thanks, Pans. You’re the best.”

“I know.”

She relaxed her head on his shoulder once more as the memory came to a close.

Harry was dumbfounded, thoughts racing emphatically as he realized that 14 year old Draco Malfoy was struggling with his sexuality just as much as he had been.

As if he didn’t have enough to deal with already.

It was amazing what he’d learned in just a few short looks through the eyes of his former nemesis. His gut tugged at the prospect of what he might see next.


	11. Chapter 11

It was dark, and Harry realized quickly that he was back in the dungeons. Even more shaded and vacant than in the last memory, he concluded that the hour must be far past nightfall. The Slytherin common room was empty with the exception of a small group of teens huddled before the fireplace.

Among them were Malfoy, Parkinson, and Zabini, along with a few others that Harry immediately recognized: Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. There were others, perhaps older students that Harry hadn’t noticed before.

They were cracking up freely, humored by something that Harry had missed. He moved closer to see an empty bottle of fire whiskey propped in the middle of their circle.

“Did you see the most recent decree from the old cow? Boys and girls not permitted within six inches of each other.” Pansy snorted as she gawked at the ridiculousness of the rule. She looped her arms flirtatiously around both Crabbe and Goyle, who were perched on either side of her.

“How’s this for space?” She challenged, and giggles rang throughout the circle.

Greengrass hiccuped and rested her head against Blaise’s shoulder; Blaise wiggled his eyebrows at Draco.

“I say that we break another decree by playing an organizational game of truth or dare.” Nott spoke in bold fashion while rubbing his hands mischievously.

“I forward this motion wholeheartedly.” Pansy winked with a daring glint in her eye.

“Well, on with it, Nott, before I sober up.” Blaise challenged, and Theodore smiled humorously.

“Alright, Zabini. Which will it be? Truth or Dare?”

“Dare, of course. I’m not boring.”

Harry decided to take a seat as he watched the game unfold intently.

“I dare you to make out with Parkinson.”

Beside him, Greengrass fumed. Blaise shrugged. “Alright. Ready, Pans?”

“As I’ll ever be, darling.”

The interesting bit about the Slytherins playing this game was that no one seemed to object to what was coming for them. Harry had played it once or twice, or maybe a few times in his own drunken stupor in the common room. But there were always pleas, arguments, etc. when the shit hit the fan. Not here, amongst the snakes. Unlike the lions, they were prepared for the venom that was their price to pay.

Blaise moved suavely across the circle to Pansy, who wrapped her arms around him exuberantly. It was clear that she was the type to put on a show if need be. She was the life of the party, and if it was fun, she was doing it. If she was forced to kiss her childhood best friend, it was going to be the hottest kiss any of them had ever witnessed.

Draco shook his head with an amused twitch of his lips. Nott whistled.

Crabbe and Goyle’s mouths simultaneously dropped into the most shocked form of the letter “o.”

Some of the others clapped. Daphne crossed her arms but didn’t say a word.

Draco’s face contorted as an obvious thought crossed his mind. Would he be dared to kiss someone?

And if he did, would it be salient that he lacked any interest at all in their physique? Would the entire world know the secret that only he and Pansy had shared?

Harry knew that expression; he knew those thoughts. Because not too long ago he’d been in the same exact position and could sympathize entirely.

Draco gulped as Pansy and Blaise separated.

“Crabbe. Truth or dare?” Blaise turned to Pansy’s left as he resumed his spot next to Greengrass, who somewhat reluctantly placed her head right where it had been.

“D-Dare.” He stuttered slightly, readying himself for anything.

“I dare you to moon Mrs. Norris.”

His brows immediately furrowed. “You get to make out with a girl and I have to expose myself to a bloody cat!?”

“Rules are Rules, my friend.”

Huffing, he rose from his spot in the circle and headed toward the exit. Excitedly, the others followed.

Harry watched a group of plastered teens tip toe down the corridors until they spotted Filch and Mrs. Norris patrolling the castle.

The others hid behind a nearby alcove while Blaise knocked over a nearby suit of armor as a distraction before performing a (not half bad for as drunk as he was) disillusionment spell on himself.

As Filch hurried toward the noise, Crabbe seized his opportunity and began unbuckling his trousers. In the presence of several whispered giggles and chattering from the alcove, Crabbe turned toward the cat and slid his pants down. Pansy was completely incoherent, drooling with laughter to the point that Draco was casting silencing charms around them.

As Filch turned the corner, they ran back toward the common room. He was far enough way to see their tales rounding another corridor, and he called that they’d all better stop or they’d be facing detention.

None of them were stupid enough to listen, and they arrived back to the common room unscathed in a matter of minutes.

The sound of triumphant joking bounced along the group as they returned to their post by the fire, resuming their same seating pattern.

“Shall we continue?” Nott asked aloud as the giggling died down.

“Draco. Truth or Dare.” Crabbe looked him dead in the eye, and another gulp bobbed down his throat.

Only Harry seemed to notice the sheen of sweat on the back of his neck as he answered with feigned confidence.

“Truth.”

“Weak,” Blaise commented, and Draco rebutted playfully: “just trying to keep things interesting, my friend.”

“What is it with you and Potter? Like we get it, you don’t like each other, but why do you two always go out of your way to talk shit? It’s like you’re both obsessed with each other or something.”

Was it evident in his face that his heart had skipped a beat? It must’ve been clear that he wasn’t expecting this question with the silence that followed as he formulated a response.

Harry wouldn’t have been sure how to answer himself, honestly.

Perhaps it was because deep down, they were drawn to each other. The light and the darkness, two sides to the same coin that can’t exist without the other. Maybe it was because they’d known all along that there was something there, nagging along the inner walls of their thoughts.

How would you put that into words? And to a room full of people who would quite possibly exploit that fact? Did Draco even realize it himself at this point?

Yes, the answer was yes. Harry knew this immediately after Draco spoke.

“Fuck Potter.”

It was simple, and to the point, and it revealed nothing about how he actually felt. If it weren’t for everything he’d witnessed and gone through with the bloke in detention recently, he would’ve been offended and went on his way.

But he knew better than that now.

“Yeah, that’s what you’re gonna end up doing if you keep spending so much time with him.” Blaise flashed him a facetious grin, and the room bursted with howling laughter.

If he’d had any doubt in his mind about Draco, it would’ve dissipated in the next moment. His cheeks burned a rosy pink, reflecting the uneasy thoughts that were escalating through his mind.

“Oh, Sod off.” He crossed his arms as Blaise shrugged with his inability to help himself as his excuse. And then, in an attempt to change the subject: “Nott. Truth or dare.”

“Dare, of course, my Potter-loving friend.”

His eyebrows narrowed as he diverted his attention elsewhere. Beside him, Nott reached across the circle to share a high-five with Goyle.

“Fine. I dare you to kiss someone yourself. Kiss...” Nott wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as Draco’s gaze roamed the circle. He wanted Nott to pay for his little comment about Potter. But...how?

Draco smirked to himself, perfectly aware of how to piss on Theodore Nott’s evening.

“Goyle.”

Nott’s confident expression seemed to melt into one of disgust. “What the fuck, Dray?”

“All this talk of myself and Potter got me thinking you might enjoy having a good one on one with Gregory over here.” Draco gestured toward Goyle, who seemed unaffected by the idea. He shrugged.

“Let’s get it over with, Theo.”

“Fine.”

As soon as they met in the middle, Pansy’s fingers flew to her lips for a full on whistle. This was followed by a few cat calls from some of the other girls in the room.

Theo pulled away as soon as he was able to and stalked back to his spot.

“I give that a 7. Pansy and I whooped y’all,” Blaise stared, and the playful humor of the soirée continued.

That was Draco’s only turn, thankfully. When Daphne was discovered to be passed out cold on Zabini’s shoulder, people started calling it a night.

Harry watched as Draco retreated to his dormitory, followed as he found sanctuary in his very own four poster.

He stood there for a while, watching Draco in the beginning stages of drifting off to sleep. He should’ve felt odd, or out of place, anything that would’ve indicated intrusion. Instead, he felt warmth as he observed pale lashes flutter shut.

He thought back to the blush that tinged his cheeks at their earlier mention. He found himself, against all odds, smiling. Because something, in all of their chaos, felt right.

He had to find Draco, so he could tell him. He just had to.

***

“So, when you and Potter get hitched, whose last name are you taking?” The call was outright and belligerent straight from the throat of Theodore Nott.

It was Potions, his favorite subject, and the look of determination on his face meant that Draco refused to let his house mate ruin that.

Apparently, no one had forgotten about that night over the weekend.

“Fuck off, Nott.” He muttered, pulling out his quill.

From the row in front of him, Nott and Goyle fist-bumped.

“Don’t worry about them, Draco, they’re just having fun.” Pansy comforted from his left as Snape approached the chalk board.

Across the room, Draco couldn’t help but eye Harry. Just to make sure he didn’t hear his house mates being ridiculous and immature.

Fifth year Harry Potter was anywhere but invested in the subject before him. Perhaps it was because Umbridge had gotten beneath his skin that day. Or maybe it was because he was Snape’s least favorite student.

Present day Harry couldn’t help but wonder how he hadn’t noticed Draco staring heavily in his direction. Whatever the distraction was, it was strong.

Because even Hermione noticed gray eyes peering in their direction, and she cocked her head contemplatively before turning back to her notes.

Draco hurriedly glanced away at Granger’s notice.

The whole scene was rather odd, and Harry wondered just what was running through Draco’s mind.

He didn’t have much time to ponder this; in the blink of an eye the memory around him had morphed into something much darker.

The lights were dimmed, but Harry could make out what appeared to be a bedroom. A very elegant round bed protruded from the wall before him, and this was accompanied by furniture of the finest taste.

On the floor sat a very distraught Draco Malfoy, head buried beneath crossed arms that pulled his knees taut against chest. His back seemed to rise and fall rhythmically, but what gave him away immediately was the soft and broken noise of his voice cracking into a sob.

Harry’s heart clenched within his chest, a tightened fist against his rib cage. What could possibly be so wrong?

A knock on the door interrupted his cries, and he quickly wiped his tears with the back of his hand while stifling a sniffle.

“Dray?” The door cracked to reveal Blaise and Pansy, who both entered the dark room cautiously.

“Geez, Draco, are you performing a seance in here or what?” With a flick of her wand, the room illuminated.

Red-faced and bothered, Draco’s lips did pull into a soft smile at her insinuation.

They both took a seat, crossing their legs and getting comfortable in front of him.

“Want to talk about it?” Blaise asked genuinely as Pansy laced her fingers into a rest for her chin.

“I just can’t believe that he’s gone. I mean, I knew what he was doing- I’ve known of the Dark Lord’s return for a while now. But the fact that the ministry sent my father... to Azkaban... all because of fucking Potter...”

“I get that he wanted the...prophecy?... and all that,” Pansy started contemplatively, “but how the hell did Potter end up at the ministry to begin with?”

“He snuck there with his stupid friends,” Draco admitted bitterly. “The Dark Lord wanted him there. He wanted to...” if Harry wasn’t mistaken, he’d say that Draco began to choke on his words. “To kill him.” He regained his composure but winked at the seriousness of his words.

“A bit harsh don’t you think?” Pansy pondered, but Draco shrugged.

“You know, it’s good vs. evil. It’s how it has to be.”

“And Potter is...?” Blaise lifted an eyebrow questioningly.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? He’s good. Bloody heroic. Spectacular. And my father is on the side of darkness. And now he’s in fucking prison because of it. And he’ll be lucky to be alive when he’s released...”

“Your father is one of his favorites. If his life is at stake, all of our parents’ lives are.” Blaise observed, an expression of deep thought pulling at the edges of his face.

“Eventually, I’m sure. We’ll probably all end up dead unless we do exactly as he says.” Pansy added, more serious than Harry had ever seen her.

Tears resurfaced against sharp, desperate cheeks. “What the fuck are we going to do?”

“Well, like you said...” Pansy’s expression was suddenly lit like fire against her thoughts. It reminded Harry eerily of Hermione when she was onto something big.

“It’s good versus evil. We have to pick a side; there’s no playing the middle here. And, we’ve seen what happens when you disappoint the Dark Lord.” She gestured a hand forward, referring to their conversation thus far.

“What are you saying, Pans?” Blaise asked curiously, following intently with each word of her plan.

“I’m saying we save our own skin. We’re bound to end up either dead or in prison if we follow in our parents’ footsteps. I know it sounds a bit far off, but... I think Potter has a shot. I think he’s going to win.”

 

“You think Potter is going to defeat the Dark Lord?” Draco asked skeptically, hanging on by the edge of his thoughts.

“Don’t you?” She asked almost omnipotently. Neither of them said a word, lost in their own ideas of what was to come.

Finally, Blaise broke the silence. 

“I quite regretfully believe he has a chance.” He folded his hands, twisting his fingers as he sparked his own revelation.

“He has help. We know where Dumbledore stands. All of the staff except Snape is on his side. And rumor has it that he’s got an entire order of people protecting him.”

“Exactly.” Pansy concurred, suddenly excited. “You always said you wanted to do your own thing, Draco, well... this is it.”

He took a moment to wipe his own snot on the back of his sleeve, ultimately not caring about the finest of silk threading.

“So what? We decide to side with Potter and the rest of his pathetic group? What will that get us?”

“Our lives.” Pansy and Blaise answered simultaneously.

“And if He Who Must Not Be Named finds out that we’re against him? He’ll kill our parents, then us.”

“He won’t find out,” Pansy answered determinedly. “We’re smarter than that. We were born into shrewdness. Who’s to say we can’t use it to our advantage?”

Draco sat for a while in silence before apparently deciding something.

“You’re... you’re right. I’m in.”

“Are you sure, Dray? Because once we’ve decided this... there’s no going back.” Blaise gazed at him with eyes that held a burning finality.

“No, I’m sure. I’m in.” Harry couldn’t quite decipher his expression. It was as if he was stuck between his own desires and those of the man in prison.

“Alright!” Pansy clapped her hands together. “So, what does Team Free Will do first?”

Blaise chuckled. “We have a name now? Hey, at least rumor has it that Umbridge won’t be returning when the school year starts again. Team Free Will is in strict violation of educational decree number sixty eight.”

“Oh, god forbid!” Pansy draped a hand across her brow dramatically, as if she was going to faint. For the first time that evening, Draco’s lips pulled into an authentic smile.

Harry studied three teens, scratch that, young adults, with his own proud grin as the edges of Malfoy’s bedroom ran blurry. He beamed at the secret, the unknown that he never would’ve predicted had he just not witnessed it with his own eyes. Team Free Will, albeit their intentions, supported him.

His biggest enemy had faith in his ability to win this war.

This realization was enough to move mountains. To scatter the seas. Suddenly Harry felt that he could do or be anything. It was Draco, and his unannounced support, that meant everything.

Colors ran, molding and mixing into another memory that displayed itself with unspoken significance.

He was in what appeared to be the foyer of Malfoy manor. Draco was perched motionless on a couch, straight as a pin, rigid as a hardened statue. His eyes were glued to the floor as his mother paced nervously before him.

“Your father will be released any minute. And then he will be free to apparate home.”

Draco nodded once in acknowledgement, a jerky interruption to his stillness.

“Don’t say anything to upset him, Draco. He’s had a hard few months.”

Another nod. And then a loud crack that signaled the appearance of the expected. Unscathed and back in his finest wizard robes stood Lucius Malfoy, standing tall in defiance of his latest sentencing.

“Narcissa. Draco.” He stated formally, greeting them as if they were nothing more than acquaintances.

Every tear Draco had shed on his behalf seemed to fall in vain as the man refused to linger his gaze upon his son for long.

“It’s good to have you back, Darling.” Narcissa moved forward, not daring to touch him but retrieving the decorative cane from his hand.

“Likewise, my dear.” He smiled at her, but his eyes were cold. Abruptly, he turned his attention.

“Draco?”

“Yes, father?” Only now did he look up to meet his gaze.

“I’m going to need a word with you.”

He gulped down the lump in his throat; he hadn’t even realized it was there.

His mother vacated the room wordlessly; his father sat down on an adjacent sofa. Draco nervously anticipated what speech he’d be given, wondered if he’d done something wrong.

“What has happened is a tragedy. An atrocity. Potter and his colleagues have embarrassed this entire family. Do you agree?”

“Yes, father.” Solemn, eyes fixed to his own feet.

“We must make atonement for our loss. This battle will not reflect the conclusion of the war. We will win, Draco, and you are to play a part in that.”

Silence. How was he supposed to answer to that? Was he even required to?

“Now. With that being said, you should know that in the coming days you will being to see more and more of our Lord. His presence is to be welcomed in the Manor as he sees so. You will meet with him one on one on a multitude of occasions, and you must not be a disappointment.”

Another nod, another gulp. “Yes, sir.”

“Do you have any questions, Draco? Any... problems regarding what I’ve told you?”  
A peering look from his spot adjacent to him. Skepticism at its finest.

“No, sir.”

“Very well, then. You may go.”

Draco rose fluidly, pivoting toward the main stair case.

“And Draco?”

He paused, turning on one heel to see what the fuck more his father wanted. “As the Malfoy heir, you are expected to follow in my footsteps. The Dark Lord will accept nothing less from you.”

Harry had seen Draco angry, irate even. He’d witnessed a dramatic smirk dance upon his lips while he bullied a lesser witch or wizard. He’d even seen him appear indifferent, bored and apathetic with those surrounding him.

He’d never seen the boy appear so stoic. Cold. Hardened.

“Yes, sir. That will not be a problem. Thank you, father.” The words were looped on a string of false respect, a costume of what was expected from him.

Harry never realized that Draco Malfoy was perhaps the greatest actor he’d ever met. Self-preserving, self-respecting. Bold. All qualities he’d come to admire.

He watched the trail of a liar as he escalated the steps to his bedroom. And he’d never respected him more.

If you would’ve asked Harry a year ago, hell, a few months ago, if he’d ever have respect for a Malfoy, he would’ve laughed in your face.

The memories were changing everything, it seemed. He followed him up the stairs, crossed the threshold to his room while in tow.

And then, they were in another place entirely.

It was dark again, and for a moment Harry pondered the possibility of their setting as the dungeons at Hogwarts. The ungodly silhouette of something inhuman, almost serpentlike against the dim lighting had him discarding that theory with an involuntary shudder.

He didn’t have to see the crimson of his eyes to know exactly who the shadow belonged to. Even in a memory, he felt something thick lodge itself in the back of his throat.

As the figure stepped forward, Harry’s eyes began to adjust to their surroundings. They were in a chamber of sorts... a dungeon, maybe? There were blunt iron bars to their left, forming a strict cell that seemed to hold a single occupant. Harry squinted to see who the prisoner was and recognized the very timid, hunched over form of Peter Pettigrew smashing his face against the bars.

Where in the hell was he? Was this some sort of... torcher chamber that belonged to Voldemort?

The shadowy figure of Tom Riddle himself seemed to glide forward and into plain view. He was preserved just as Harry had seen him last in the Department of Mysteries. It was unsettling, seeing him again, even if his own presence was invisible.

A knot formed in the pit of his stomach as Voldemort opened his mouth to form an almost hissed word: “Draco.”

Out of the darkness stepped the blonde, eyes focused forward and resolute.

“Yes, my Lord?” He asked, very matter of factly, his tone lacking any and all emotion.

“I have no doubt in my mind that you will do great things in my name,” He declared confidently, “but I must know that your intentions are pure. I have a few...challenges for you to endure.”

Draco’s gaze didn’t falter; he didn’t so much as blink before responding: “anything, my Lord.”

“Your first task, my dear servant, is quite painful I’m afraid. But it is something you must endure.” Voldemort appeared smug, God-like, as if he and only he possessed the secrets of time. He scavenged Draco up and down, eyes hungry and teetering on the edges of reward and punishment.

Before he even had a chance to respond, his wand was raised. “Crucio!”

In the next moment, Draco had buckled to his knees, teeth gritted and eyelids squeezed uncomfortably shut. His muscles quivered and jerked beneath the magic, unable to cope with the pain.

Harry instinctively lurched forward but knew that his efforts were meaningless. He attempted to grab Draco, to pick him up against the weight of the spell but his hands flew right through him. He had no merit here; he was only a ghost in another time entirely.

Voldemort’s expression was sickeningly cruel; like he got off on this specifically. Watching his followers suffer for him in an egotistical competition against himself and his own power.

Draco faltered before him, melting into the floor without objection. He bent his head forward before vomiting profusely at the feet of the Dark Lord.

Harry expected the spell to stop soon; it had to. Had it been minutes, or merely seconds? An eternity, or the blink of an eye?  
Harry’s heart raced at his own inability to help the boy before him. No, this was longer than he’d ever witnessed someone befall the Cruciatus curse. This was beyond torcher.

His chest clenched with worry; a tightness that threatened to suffocate him as it gripped his organs and squeezed. Desperation overwhelmed him, a feeling of dread like no other trickled from his head to his toes. Adrenaline courses through his veins as he glanced around repeatedly, trying to find a solution to a problem that was a moment’s past.

Draco chewed his lips violently, biting back the screams that threatened to dislodge his throat. His fingernails bled as he dug them seamlessly into the concrete, each one bending and breaking beneath the pain. He grunted and groaned but refused cry. Harry couldn’t take it anymore.

“Stop it! Please, stop it!” He yelped meaninglessly, but in a fit of coincidence it appeared that Voldemort had finished his game. With a flick of his wand, Draco was released, his back rising and falling with exhaustion as his chest heaved.

His pain was like the loudest screech to Harry, and now that he rested the room fell silent once more. A stark contrast against the relief washing over his insides was the menacing smile that pulled across Voldemort’s lips.

He was grinning. Draco was barely clinging to his own sanity, and yet he was smiling crudely.

Harry wanted to vomit.

Eventually, Draco used his palms to press himself upward. He still struggled to catch his breath as he stood, chest rising and falling rapidly against his determination.

“Nicely done, Draco. Are you ready for your second task?”

Draco nodded wordlessly, eyes narrowed with resolute focus.

“I want you to inflict that same pain on our faithful prisoner here, Mr. Pettigrew.”

“No, please, my Lord, no!” His cries were a pathetic and desperate whine, and for a split second Harry felt he’d gotten what he deserved.

What changed his mind was the fleeting expression that flickered across Draco’s face as he turned toward the cell. It was fear, and regret, and a hopeless longing to be anywhere but here.

He quickly composed himself, gulping almost inconspicuously as he raised his wand.

“Mr. Malfoy, no, please, don’t hurt me!” Peter cried in his own rodent-like manner. His hands clutched the bars, knuckles white from anticipation. Draco stared directly through him as he blankly focused all of his effort on the spell before him.

“Crucio.”

Harry held his breath, wondering what thoughts were flirting through Draco’s mind.

Instantly, Pettigrew hit the floor, writhing in despair. Draco held his wand study, eyes fixed on his target. He didn’t dare flinch, or think about what was happening. Harry could tell he was desperately trying to forget what was happening by the second.

The screams were deafening. Even an enemy’s cries sent goosepimples along his arms, raising each hair taut against his skin.

Draco held forward. Voldemort laughed. Harry froze.

This moment lasted forever. And then, as soon as he was done enjoying himself, Voldemort spoke: “You may stop now, Draco. Very well done.”

Draco lowered his wand and turned back to the Dark Lord, unable to look Pettigrew in the eye. It was this gesture that assured Harry of his unadulterated innocence.

“You are coming along fine, young Draco.”

Pettigrew now cowered in his cell, crawling toward the back wall and fidgeting restlessly.

After gazing in his direction, Voldemort continued. “I have one more task for you. It is a large one, but I have faith in your ability to serve me.”

Draco lowered his head in feigned respect. “I won’t let you down, my Lord.”

“You are one of my only servants that has access to the school of Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry. As you know, some of my greatest enemies dwell in its corridors.” He paused, waiting for comment.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Before your school year is concluded, I will have expected you to do a most honorable deed in my name. You will be the one to kill Albus Dumbledore.”

Harry gasped. Draco almost cracked his facade but kept his head hung low.

All at once, Everything and nothing seemed to make sense. Harry had never known, he’d never had any idea...

Something in him knew that Draco wouldn’t do it. He was part of Team Free Will after all, how could he possibly follow through with such a task?

Would he be bold enough to refuse, even if it meant his own death or the death of his family?

And suddenly Harry’s heart clenched with sympathy. Voldemort had attempted to kill him several times by now, but he’d never been in such as position as Draco was in currently.

He’d never had to pretend. He’d never had the weight of his parent’s lives toppling against his shoulders; Voldemort had already robbed them from him.

“How, my Lord?” Draco’s words were bland and matter-of-fact despite the circumstances

“Why, that is part of the task, I’m afraid. Though I have no doubt that you will succeed, young Malfoy. It is, after all, in you and your family’s best interest to not fail.”

Voldemort’s expression was crudely inhuman, a snake waiting for the perfect chance to consume its prey.

Draco swallowed his fear before nodding. “I won’t let you down, my Lord.”

Voldemort acknowledged Draco’s sentiment with a silent nod and a devilish smirk before fixing his gaze on the cell behind him. “You may go back upstairs now. I have some business to attend to.”

Draco obeyed, immediately making his way down the corridor. Behind him, the screams of Petter Pettigrew echoed against the walls as Voldemort pulled out his wand and presented another round of the Cruciatus curse.

Draco winced, keeping his head forward. Harry followed as he coldly ascended the steps and emerged on the upper floor of Malfoy Manor.

Harry knew it was bad, but a very own personal torcher chamber in their basement? It was a whole new level of unsettling. Suddenly he wondered if being the Chosen One was the burden he’d claimed that it once was. He’d never known that life on the other side of the coin could be just as heavy and dark. 

As Draco closed the door behind him, his mask seemed to break. He hurriedly entered a nearby washroom, and Harry watched as he wiped the tears away. He gazed into the mirror, gripping the sink as his breath caught with each recollection of his encounter with the Dark Lord.

He splashed water on his face, scrubbed his cheeks with both hands in an attempt to compose himself.

The tears continued to fall anyway, and he slid his back against the wall as he deescalated to the floor. Harry watched as Draco Malfoy sobbed, clearly cracking under the pressure. He’d need a plan, and he’d need it fast. And Harry wondered if he’d come up with one yet.

Regardless, he refused to let Draco Malfoy suffer another moment. As long as he lived, he vowed to himself that Draco Malfoy would be safe.

***

Harry wondered how close he was to finding Draco in the array of memories he’d sifted through thus far. The smell of candy and chocolate frogs alerted him to the familiarity of the Hogwarts Express, and he glanced around to find himself amidst the boarded train.

They were on their way to sixth year, just a few months prior to the present. He knew this because he saw his own figure spying on Malfoy’s compartment in the distance. He watched as he adorned the invisibility cloak, inconspicuous to anyone who didn’t know better.

He slipped into the compartment in question, hid himself on the luggage rack. He’d been convinced that Draco Malfoy was working for Voldemort, and Ron and Hermione had called him crazy.

If only he’d known the truth.

He didn’t need to relive the next moments to know what would happen. Draco would become aware of his presence and petrify him as the others exited the train.

And he’d stomp on his face, breaking his nose with an unhealthy snap. Harry didn’t want to relive the pain of that moment, but in all fairness he had broken Malfoy’s jaw recently. Maybe they could call it even now.

The part of this memory that he’d yet to see, however, was what happened after Draco departed the train. Harry left himself on the floor as he rushed past his petrified body toward the blonde.

Draco rushed through the double doors of the train, hastily stalking toward the thestral-driven carriages. A worried Pansy waved him toward their own, and he quickly obliged. Meanwhile, he appeared that he might be sick at any moment.

“What happened, dear?” Pansy pressed as the carriage started rolling. Harry hopped on board and squeezed in next to the substanceless figure of Draco Malfoy.

Even in a memory, it felt kind of nice.

“Potter. He suspects something. He thinks I’m- maybe even we’re- following You-Know-Who.”

“What makes you think that?” Blaise questioned with a single brow raised.

“He was eavesdropping on us. Why else would he stalk us, unless he thought we were up to something? And we did... say things... didn’t we? Things that could be self-incriminating?”

“Yes, darling, we did. And that’s the point.” Pansy crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, exasperated.

Draco gazed at her, puzzled and baffled at her reaction.

“We’ve got him where we want him. If he thinks we’re following in our parents’ foot steps, then we’re putting on a good show, silly. Think of it as a game, and we’re winning.”

Draco paused; Harry cocked his head. Damn, those Slytherins were cunning. Pansy’s objective and intricate line of thinking had flown right past Harry’s obvious line of thought. Draco pressed his lips into a hard line as he contemplated her words.

“She’s right. Fuck what Potter thinks. We know what’s real, and that’s all that matters.” Blaise’s casual rationale caused a visible relaxation to overcome Draco’s rigid shoulders.

“I can’t believe you two are out-Slytherining me.”

“Oh, Darling, didn’t you know you learned from the best?” Pansy winked in his direction, her own physique loosening as he rested her chin in one hand.

“Besides, we all know how you get around Potter. He throws you off your game.” She giggled, and Blaise shook his head as if to visibly state “I’m staying out of this.”

“What do you mean?” He cocked his head, brow furrowed, confusion rocking his mind.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” She flipped her hair behind her shoulder. “I wonder what they’re going to serve tonight. I’m starving.”

As the carriage pulled along, no one re-visited the subject of Harry Potter. The only thing that kept him on edge was the subtle confusion that remained in Draco’s grey eyes- like Pansy’s words were a newfound questioning that would reverberate against his skull when he least expected it.

The thought was there, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t going anywhere. A seed planted within Draco’s subconscious that needed tending to.

He’d water that damned thing if it was the last thing he’d be able to do. It was the least he deserved.


	12. Chapter 12

Darkness turned to light as Harry found himself submerged within another memory. It was a crisp, cool day not unlike the weather recently. His stomach lurched as he realized the implications of this thought, but his attention was quickly diverted by the sight of Slytherin robes crossing the corridor before him.

He quickly followed the gang around the corner and tried to catch up so he could hear their conversation.

As he was approaching the trio, who were mostly keeping to themselves and hardly causing distraction, his attention was pulled by the sound of his own voice.

“There He is!” It was a hoarse whisper (if one could call it that) shoved in the direction of his own friends.

As he stopped and turned to view himself a few months prior, his gut sank at the impossibility of his own stupidity.

“Who?” Ron glanced up to see Malfoy crossing his path innocently and turned to Harry with a sigh.  
“Bloody hell, are you still onto this Malfoy shit?”

“I told you! I heard him on the train! He’s plotting something! He told Pansy that he’d spoken with Voldemort himself!”

“Honestly, Harry, you’re taking this too far! We don’t like him any more than you do, but you can’t go around accusing people of being Death Eaters! That is a serious and legally bound accusation!” The wise chirp of Hermione followed Ron’s exasperation.

Harry watched himself, frustrated, follow the Slytherins to their next class. Potions.

This time Slughorn stood at the forefront, tapping a bottle of amber liquid with pride. Harry remembered this day vividly.

“This is Felix Felicis,” he announced, and Draco’s eyes widened. “Or, as some call it, liquid luck.”

Harry ignored his own mannerisms and instead migrated toward the Slytherins as they began their assignment.

They would each compete for the vial by brewing their own mixture of the Draught of Living Death. Malfoy’s gaze remained fixed wide open as the prospect of winning became the subject of conversation at their table.

“Is Draco Malfoy breaking a sweat?” Blaise challenged facetiously as he mashed his ingredients.

He lowered his head before responding. “Imagine if I won, Zabini. I could use it...” His eyes were solemn but almost hopeful. Like liquid luck was the answer to all of his problems.

“To find a way around what he’s asked of you.” Pansy finished in the softest of tones.

Draco gulped before nodding.

“Well, come on, guys, if one of us wins, we all do.” Blaise stated determinedly and flipped open his text book.

Draco, for a split second, appeared as if he might cry. Pansy, with a satisfied smile, began stirring counter clockwise.

As he moved on to chopping the sloth brain, Draco’s grin was impeccable. Harry, continuously floored by whom he’d originally pinned as mindless bullies, watched as the group worked feverishly for the selfless benefit of friendship.

He watched the disappointment cross Malfoy’s face when it was announced that Harry had won.

And he’d cheated his way through the entire time.

If he was honest with himself, he’d known that Malfoy’s potion was better. It was the second closest to perfection, and he’d done it all on his own.

He needed Felix Felicis more than he did.

And he’d robbed it from him.

Guilt swarmed his gut as Draco packed his things, readying himself for his next lesson wordlessly. His face held all that needed to be said. He was devastated.

Pansy patted him on the back before leaving the classroom. “We’ll figure it out, another way. I promise.”

Draco put forth his best smile before leaving himself.

As he passed where Harry stood, completely oblivious to his presence, the tightness in his stomach twisted. He fought the urge to cry, or scream at himself. He wasn’t sure which.

He’d thought he was a hero. Some hero he was, succeeding on stolen pretenses while Malfoy worked so hard to fail.

He’d stolen Draco’s only hope at redeeming himself.

Harry knew where the vial was, tucked safely away in a sock back in his trunk. Regardless of potion, the aching in his stomach pushed him to follow Draco out the door. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

He’d thought Draco had needed saving, but maybe it was himself who had needed redemption all along.

***

When he blinked, the world had reconfigured into the Great Hall. Judging by the feast, it was breakfast time. There were a few straggler students, mostly Ravenclaws who’d arrived early to study before class. Alone and withdrawn at the Slytherin table sat Draco Malfoy, picking at his eggs.

He seemed thoughtful, pondering on something that was clearly bothering him. Harry crossed closer for a better view.

It was at this moment that the post arrived, owls swooping in from every which way. The expected chaos ensued, those available reaching for letters and packages from home.

Draco froze as a familiar Malfoy eagle owl dropped an envelope on his lap.

His hands were shaking as he fumbled with the Malfoy family crest, waxed elegantly in the form of a seal.

He tore open the finest of parchments, fingered the contents of the letter. In the an exquisite and formal cursive were the insincere words of his father.

Harry hurriedly hunched over his shoulder to take a look as Malfoy’s eyes rapidly scanned the parchment.

In essence, his father requested that Draco speak with him via floo in the Slytherin common room fireplace at midnight. There was apparently an important message that needed to be relayed to him promptly. He also asked that Draco burn the letter upon completing it. The severity of keeping their meet quiet was present though unwritten.

Harry finished the letter, glancing immediately to Malfoy’s face for any sign of what he was thinking.

His eyes instantly fell downward before they fluttered shut, squeezed tight in concentration. He was holding back some emotion, anger, or sadness, Harry couldn’t be sure. And then, with his right hand he crumpled the note and hid it hastily in his robe pocket. His hands were still visibly shaking; his was skin a few shades pale than his normal hue. He appeared as if he might vomit, and Harry wasn’t quite sure he wouldn’t have felt the same if the roles were reversed.

How can someone you love so much cause you the same amount of fear? It was obvious that Draco loved his father deeply, even if he wanted nothing to do with his future. The pain behind each glance, the rigidness behind every lie that was told all pointed to the ache of rejection he still felt. An entire childhood of broken promises and cold, uncaring reasons left him yearning for parental approval.

And yet, he wanted to rebel. The constant tug of war that these opposing emotions brought was evident in his anger. He balled his fists before leaving the breakfast table and heading through the entrance of the Great Hall.

Harry refused to lose sight of him in this state and stalked in his direction, praying that the memory would continue. He lacked the knowledge of how to fix him but knew that he needed support. Would he find it in his friends?

He continued to follow him throughout the entrance hall and past the grand staircase. He walked briskly, with a purpose in mind, and Harry almost had trouble keeping up.

That is, until he came face to face with an obstacle that was so unexpected it made Harry blush.

Draco rounded the corner, clearly making his way past Gryffindor tower and toward the dungeons. When he hastily sped around the corridor, however, the sight of a self-appeased past Harry snogging Ginny Weasley stopped him dead in his tracks.

Hell, if he hadn’t stopped, he’d have tumbled right into them.

Harry gulped. He’d almost forgotten this memory, though now it ran electrically prevalent in his mind.

He’d met with Ginny, and they’d decided to walk to breakfast together. But he hadn’t seen her the night before, and he knew they should be snogging every chance they got, so... when she suggested they pause in the nearby alcove for something physical, he hardly declined.

The memory was somehow tainted now.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Don’t you two lovebirds realize there are people trying to fucking WALK here?” The sarcastic drawl of Malfoy had all but killed what little mood there was for Harry, and he’d hated him for it at the time. Especially because he was still fighting through his struggling sexuality, and hadn’t come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t Ginny or himself that was the problem.

“Please, Malfoy, don’t act like you’ve never done it before.” Harry took Ginny’s hand, preparing to walk in the opposite direction.

“Actually, I haven’t. Very classy, though.”

The words were a sneer, and when Harry hadn’t known better he’d thought that the malice was directed toward him.

Now, however, as he watched Malfoy continue on his path, he knew that it was just one more thing to ruin his day.

Draco Malfoy, however slightly, was bothered by Harry and Ginny’s kiss. He just wasn’t fully aware of why that was.

Harry followed him into the dungeons, through the entrance to the Slytherin common room. He was immediately greeted by Pansy and Blaise, who were joining some of their housemates on a walk to the Great Hall for breakfast.

“Draco, darling, what’s wrong? Haven’t gotten anything to eat yet?” His sour expression was an obvious indicator to his circumstances.

He paused, unsure of how to respond. She was his best friend, after all, but he couldn’t bring her into this. Whatever his father had to tell him was going to be on a whole new level of deep, or gruesome, or something, and he didn’t want her involved. For his own sake or for hers.

“Fucking Potter,” he muttered instead, and Harry noticed his cover up as if it had slapped him across the face. “I’m just trying to walk and I run face first into him snogging the goddamn Weaselette outside in an open corridor.”

“Ew, gross,” She commented sympathetically, but Goyle spoke up.

“I don’t know, she’s not too bad. I’d shag the redhead.”

“She and her family are blood traitors,” Nott chimed disgustedly.

“Hit it and quit it. It’s not like I’m giving her my lineage.”

“Pshh, you’d be lucky if SHE gave YOU so much as a handjob,” Blaise jabbed, trying to direct the subject away from Draco. It was obvious that something was wrong.

“Take that back, Zabini!” He bickered, and Pansy rolled her eyes with a lopsided smile thrown in Draco’s direction before they exited.

When he was alone, he cast an emotionless incendio upon the balled up letter in his pocket.

Now, he’d have to wait.

***

Harry started as Draco’s form eventually faded into the background. The lights dimmed, and suddenly the fire place roared with startling green flames. He planted his feet as he settled in for the ride of a morphing memory.

Draco reappeared, this time with his arms folded and standing before the fire. Harry’s breath caught. What was the time? Midnight?

As if echoing his thoughts, the face of Lucius Malfoy appeared somewhat violently in the fire. Draco did not falter but wore an unreadable expression.

“Hello, son.”

“Hello, father.”

“Do you know why I have summoned you today?”

Draco shook his head.

“Are you sure of your solitude?”

He nodded once.

“The Dark Lord wants to know the progress of your plan. What have you done thus far to assure its completion?”

“I’m working on it.”

Draco’s words held a cautious finality. There was no lying here. He had nothing to show because he’d done nothing.

For the first time, Harry witnessed the carefully placed stoicism of Lucius Malfoy flicker before it faltered.

“You- are you saying that you haven’t done ANYTHING? That you’ve got nothing for me to take back to the Dark Lord regarding your progress!?”

“I told you, I’m working on it. That’s all anyone needs to know.”

“God damnit Draco, what kind of absolute load are you pulling? Do you think he will be satisfied with that statement? Do you want to disappoint this family?”

Something about that word. Family. For a moment, Draco’s hardened expression twisted into something more vulnerable. His eyes, they held an emotion that was crazy, like he was on the brink of snapping. Teetering on the edge of defeat. Harry held his breath as he watched each minute reaction tip the scales of Draco Malfoy. Which was it going to be?

Was he finally going to outwardly rebel against everything he’d every known?

Or would he continue in his masquerade to keep his switch in alliances a secret?

An entirely new option seemed to eerily creep into Harry’s mind, one he didn’t want to ponder. Would he change his mind, and give his father what he wanted so badly?

His chest was still, allowing his heart beat to thrum against the walls of each muscle and vibrate an urgency throughout his system.

Like a decision being made, a weight that fell harsh upon the see-saw, Draco recollected himself.

“No, father. That is the last thing I want. I am going to prove it to you and our Lord. I am working on something, the details of which are discreet. Even speaking them aloud is risky. You must trust me.”

Lucius debated this, clearly skeptical but lacking the knowledge to dispute his son’s loyalty.

“Very well. Draco, I presume you know what will happen if you fail.”

“What is that, father?”

“If you are alive, you will be shunned from the Malfoy name. Take this knowledge with you as you move forward.”

“Yes, father. Goodnight.”

With an unruly gust of wind, the fire died down to smoldering orange and black ashes. And Draco was alone.

It was dark, but the tears that ran down his cheeks were unmistakeable. Draco Malfoy was not only afraid for his life; he was hurting. And there was nothing Harry could do at this moment to stop that.

He wanted to lurch forward, grab him by the shoulders, and show him just how worth it he was to him. Not as a pawn, or as a price to pay, but as a human. As the smile that played on his lips for the first time, or the laugh that jingled like a chime on the wind. As someone to hold and to fight beside. To fight for.

He wanted to show him what it was like to love someone, and to feel loved in return. None of the people in his life that were supposed to love him had shown it properly, with the exception of his friends. He needed him to know what that feeling was, and he needed to feel it for himself.

He caught himself pleading to a silent Draco from a few weeks back, oblivious to Potter entirely.

“Please, Draco. Don’t give up. Wait for me. I’ll protect you. We’ll fight this together. You deserve to be free. Just please... don’t give up.”

His despair was tangible as the edges of the memory began to blur, fading into nothing. Harry reached forward, placing a translucent hand on his thigh for comfort that he knew wouldn’t be felt.

As if by a miracle, Draco glanced upward at the very last second. Green eyes met gray, and the very substance of this moment, no matter how coincidental, was enough to steal Harry’s breath away.

Harry let go into the nothingness as it consumed them.

***

Draco was in the library. The restricted section, to be exact. How he’d managed to sneak into the area without possession of an invisibility cloak was almost beyond Harry. If it weren’t for the view of his wand as he cast an extremely advanced disillusionment charm upon himself, he wouldn’t have seen him at all. Luckily, his wavy silhouette was still visible. To Harry, at least.

He paced up and down the aisles, searching for something. But what?

His fingers traced the spines of several books, feeling the lettering as he desperately looked for an answer.

On the third shelf down, he seemed to pause, cocking his head as he pondered the title of a black and gold hardcover.

“Cursed Objects and The Danger They Inflict,” was written in a Font that was almost as creepy as the subject it entailed.

He thumbed through the pages, scanning over the summaries of each until he landed on a rather large picture of a black necklace.

Harry had held onto his confusion until something about this moment unraveled him. Perhaps it was the phrasing: “Cursed objects that Kill,” on the head of the page. Or maybe it was the fact that Draco ripped this entry out, folding it and hastily shoving it in his robes. Either way, Harry suddenly realized that Draco was backtracking on his decision to go against his father, and that there was no way that this memory was more than a few weeks old.

That worried crease, the lack of contempt and focus on something much bigger and more disturbing... it was permanently chiseled into his features. This was the face of Draco who refused to hit him back in the corridor before they were assigned detention.

But... if this was that Draco, and if Draco was planning on using a cursed object to kill Dumbledore...

But Draco had changed. He’d seen it in the memories. The way his smile reflected against the romance of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. The way he’d seemed to realize that the values of his father weren’t fair to him or to anyone else. The way he’d jumped in front of Remus Lupin, ready to set his life on the line regardless of what his father thought...

No, he refused to believe that the Draco he so desperately sought after was the boy running cowardly from the restricted section. And suddenly another emotion entirely flooded through Harry’s being: anger.

“Draco!” He caught himself screaming, shuffling after the boy who weaved in and out of the bookshelves stealthily.

“Draco! Are you serious right now? You can’t give up! You can’t stop fighting!” He knew that Draco couldn’t hear him; he knew that this was nothing more than a figment of a past memory.

“I know it’s fucking hard! I know how much you crave his acceptance! It’s about just as badly as I want my parents back from the dead.”

Coincidentally of course, Draco turned and eyed the library as if he’d heard something.

“But you can’t be this person, Draco! I need you to be better than this! I need you to beat Voldemort. I- I can’t do it without you.”

His own revelation slammed into him as if every book shelf had toppled upon him. He pressed forward as Draco continued to head toward the exit.

“What will your friends do when they find out you’ve betrayed them? That you’ve betrayed everything you’ve wanted for yourself? And what about your mother? She doesn’t want this for you. That much is fucking clear!”

Draco paused at the door, as if contemplating whether he should open it.

“God damnit, Draco, why can’t you hear me? You need to hear me! Come back here you prat!” But Draco Malfoy, in the ghost of a memory, fled the room.

Harry followed urgently. But when he broke through the seal of the door, expecting to see the corridor of the first floor, chest heaving with emotion and an irate notion that he’d lost the boy, he quickly realized that he wasn’t in Hogwarts anymore.


	13. Chapter 13

Harry stood slowly, having fallen from the haste of his chase. He then glanced around cautiously, observing his surroundings with utter and blatant confusion.

He was in what appeared to be the Department of Mysteries. Rows and rows of glowing white orbs lines shelves on either side of the room. He slowly stepped forward, brow creased as he wondered how the fuck Draco had any memory of this place. It couldn’t have been his own; his solitude lacked the necessary presence of those who had traveled with him to this place last year.

Something was definitely off. And Draco was nowhere to be found. The silence rattled a sort of tenseness down his spine. A sense of impending dread prickled from his hair to his toes as he stepped forward, wandless and wondering what in the fuck was going to happen next.

He passed shelves and shelves of glowing balls, a seemingly infinite sea beyond his measly figure. Each footstep forward was enough to shatter the quiet, resting uneasy against the pit in his stomach. He noticed himself breathing harder, though he wasn’t running and suddenly began to question his own sanity.

What was so... wrong about this place? He couldn’t seem to put his finger on the doom residing in each square inch of the room. It made the air heavy, and he felt like the oxygen was thinner here. As if he was suffocating on instinct alone.

The path ahead stretched timelessly, rows upon rows of the same orbs lining each side as far as he could see. It was enough to make him dizzy, and he tried to force his eyes to adjust to the monotony when something eerie interrupted it.

A shadow, tall and dark, resting against a shelf less than 100 meters from him. He blinked, readjusting. The figure remained. He began pacing forward, hurriedly hoping that this possible toast to his insanity would hold the answers he yearned for.

As he grew closer, it became evident that the darkened figure was not only a silhouette but a man with long, black robes adorning his physique. He was pale, Harry could make out that much. He wasn’t in proximity enough to make out his face, it was a blur among white orbs...

The figure moved suddenly, and Harry started with a catch of his breath. He walked almost robotically, joints stiffened in an inhuman fashion that sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. The air seemed cold; gooseflesh broke out on the posterior surface of his arms.

He continued forward as the creature-like man made its way to the middle of the aisle. Fear consumed him, but he pressed forward, like the Gryffindor that he was. He had to know how and why any of this was tied to Draco.

Closer. Closer. And the figure turned around so that he was no longer facing Harry but staring offhandedly into the distance. Harry swore he saw a wisp of platinum hair slide from beneath his cloak as he pivoted, but he couldn’t be sure. He picked up the pace, coming in at a fast jog a he minimized the distance between them. His heart pounded as the man remained frozen to the spot, almost Godlike in his rigid stance. That composure, that poise, it was almost familiar... too familiar...

Harry came to a sudden halt as he approached the man, stopped dead in his tracks as the icy feeling of dread came to a boiling climax.

“Harry Potter, I see you have come to join in on the fun.”

He didn’t have to see his face to read his expression. He knew that smirk anywhere, could feel it dripping from the haughty tone of his voice. He balled his fists involuntarily as the knot in his stomach tightened. After everything he’d seen, every memory he’d walked through, the sound of that voice made him want to do nothing short of vomit.

“Lucius Malfoy,” Harry declared, his voice a cross between disgust and anger.

“You’re right. Well, sort of.”

He turned around to face Harry, who held his mouth agape at what he saw. It was Lucius Malfoy in all respects... except his eyes. They were complete pools of darkness, from sclera to Iris. No color remained except the pitch black that seemed to consume him, running down below his eye sockets as if someone had ripped them out clean.

Harry stumbled backward a bit, shaken at the sight of the man- the monster- before him.

“What the fuck are you?” Harry piped, swallowing his fear in favor for the traits that placed him in Gryffindor.

“I am the deepest form of Draco’s subconscious.”

Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he waited idly for the explanation to continue.

“You see, Harry, we all have light and darkness within us. I’m sure you are aware of that much. But what happens when you form memories is a bit more complicated.” He tilted his head with feigned innocence before continuing.

“Look around you. What do you see?”

Harry glanced at the thousands upon thousands of orbs resonating on all sides of them.

“Prophecies.” He answered curtly, but Lucius had already raised a finger in response.

“Wrong. Memories.”

Harry’s breath caught, and he reached instinctively toward a nearby shelf to touch one. As the heat of his hand met the surface, images began to play like home movies in its center. Harry focused, entranced by a very young Draco Malfoy laughing contagiously as he rode a broom for what appeared to be his first time. It was a beautiful memory, the kind that would make a good patronus. 

He let it go and turned back to the being before him.

“Are these all... Draco’s memories?”

He smiled, and it was a creepy grin that sent a chill down the base of Harry’s neck. 

“Precisely. You see, everyone has their own memory bank, per se. A storage of sorts to retrieve both your greatest and worst recollections. That moment in death where your life flashes before your eyes? That is when you come here.”

“Is... is Draco dead?” Harry meant to ask this forcefully but his voice cracked at the prospect.

“I’m afraid not. If he were dead, we wouldn’t still be standing here, now would we?”

Harry cocked his head stupidly before getting frustrated at the circular logic.

“Where is he?” Harry demanded, louder this time. “And what the fuck are you, again? His subconscious? Take me to him!”

But Lucius Malfoy, or this version of him anyway, stood frozen and unaffected by his outburst.

“I cannot take you to him, I’m afraid. I don’t have that kind of... power. I am merely a concentration of all of Draco’s bad memories, embarrassments, failures, and, of course... fears.”

Even in darkness, his eyes seemed absolutely delighted at the prospect of horror.

“So you exist because of the bad things that have happened to Draco?”

“In a sense, Yes. But everyone has their own version of me in their subconscious. Each individual has varying degrees of trauma and repressed thoughts and memories. I exist because of those horrible experiences. Think of me as the devil on your shoulder.”

Harry absorbed this information, processing its intricacies as he studied the morphed form of Lucius Malfoy.

“And you’re the form of Draco’s bad memories, because his father is what he fears most.”

“Ah, Yes. Fears, loves, loathes. It’s quite the soap opera, really. He is the epitome of Draco’s suffering, and that is the air from which I breathe.”

“But if you’re the... devil on his shoulder, then where is the angel? You said it yourself! We have light and darkness in all of us.” Harry breathed heavily with excitement at his speculation. He had to be onto something; he could feel it in the marrow of his bones.

Lucius Malfoy’s eerie black eyes were now pitted against a beaming, creepy grin that caused Harry’s skin to crawl.

“Well, don’t you see, Harry? That’s why you’re here.” He raised his eyebrows proudly, like he knew something that Harry should’ve caught on to ages ago.

Harry must’ve looked as stupid as he felt, because he straightened before continuing.

“You are the epitome of all of the good things that have happened to Draco. You were the inspiration behind his most recent decision to abandon me. You represent love, and courage, and strength... all of those poor qualities I prefer not to discuss.”

“I... me? But I’m a person... I’m...”

“You are the person that he’s head over heels for. Apparently.” He paused to... did he just roll his eyes? “And thus you have become a beacon for him, a representation of all things good. And here we are, together, two opposite but opposing equals.”

“You’re wrong. We are not equal. Draco would never choose you.”

“Draco has to face me in order to choose you. Do you really think that he could do that? Come to terms with all those horrible daddy issues?” His brows were raised skeptically, but Harry pressed forward.

“I know he will. I’ve seen him do it before.”

“A lot of faith in the boy, I see. If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d say that his feelings are... reciprocated, on your behalf.”

Harry felt a blush creep up his cheeks but remained persistent.

“Where is he?”

When Malfoy didn’t answer, an idea struck Harry, lighting him with new motivation from the ground up.

He turned suddenly to one of the farther shelves on his right and took off in its direction. Malfoy was momentarily incapacitated by what appeared to be his own confusion before he followed.

“Memories,” Harry whispered, placing a hand on a random globe of white light. He was greeted by images of Buckbeak in their third year Care of Magical Creatures Lesson. He quickly let go of this, sprinting along to another shelf. Another memory, a more recent one, one that had occurred only hours before, if he estimated correctly...

He ran his hands along several orbs with Malfoy now in tow. Images of Draco- laughing with his friends, learning in the classroom, strolling about Diagon Alley- they were all much too young. He picked up his pace, weaving through shelves and dodging Malfoy’s chase as he neared what had to be getting close to the end.

Some of these orbs were blank as he touched them- memories that hadn’t yet been filled. He backtracked, racing along the same aisle, touching each ball of white light softly until-

Until images of Draco Malfoy, and a bright green light hitting him, of his body falling into darkness and landing in a bank... of memories... he was isolated, alone. Lying on the ground. Passed out. He had to be near here. There was a shelf in the background, like the others, but... something in Harry instinctively pulled him forward. To the next row, and the next.

And Malfoy was yelling, he was screaming for him to stop, but this only fueled him forward. He grasped for the back of his robes, only to miss narrowly as Harry employed the skills of a team’s best Seeker. His breath was heavy, he wondered how much longer he could push, but something inside, a little voice perhaps, kept whispering just a little farther...

Harry passed four, five more rows of shelves when he saw it. There, to his right, at the end of an aisle of stored future memories was a lump of black clothing, sprawled lifelessly on the ground. He ducked Malfoy’s grasp as he changed direction, bolting down the walkway toward what he knew had to be... it just had to be him...

His heart was thumping wildly against his ribs, ecstatic and fluttering as he neared what so thankfully appeared to be the very statuesque form of Draco Malfoy...

Harry didn’t care about anything else; not his aching legs or violently contracting lungs or the fact that he was utterly wandless should something happen...

All he could focus on was the blonde in front of him. How his breath had felt against his own chest that morning. How that smile had danced upon his lips like a personal victory for Harry yesterday. How his laugh, God, his laugh was like a goddamn Siren’s voice that captivated him to no end...

He wanted to hear it. To see that smile. To feel his head nestled against the crook of his own...

And in the midst of that desire, he could see flashes of Draco’s memories running spiritedly trough his mind’s eye- confusion over his sexuality...hurt and rejection on behalf of his own family... the desire to be his own individual coated with earning an unattainable love...

The sound of his own footsteps slamming against the tiled floor echoed against the shriek of Malfoy’s disdain behind him.

Suddenly, he noticed that the voice was farther back than it had initially been, and a quick look over his shoulder revealed that Lucius Malfoy had quit following him.

“Even if you can wake him up, he will falter against me.” He called after confidently, but Harry continued forward without quarrel. He reached Draco, desperately throwing himself onto his hands and knees and giving him a quick once over.

“Draco! Draco, can you hear me?” He asked, patting his robes and searching for any sign of injury. His eyelids remained shut, face in an almost tranquil expression of slumber. Harry paused, glancing for any changes or proof that he sensed his presence.

It was then that he noticed the soft puff of air emanating from his nostrils, creating a modest whistle as it was expelled. He was breathing.

A sigh of relief escaped as a small consequence of a much bigger picture. He was alive, and that was something.

“Draco, listen to me, you have got to wake up. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but your dad’s killing curse hit you, and now you’re here, and your dad’s behind me but it’s not really him it’s just your repressed memories...and I don’t know what else to do. So please, please wake up.”

It was an endless stretch of time that Draco remained motionless, and the scoff of Lucius Malfoy from behind him was enough to boil his blood.

He slowly turned to see the black eyed man standing, arms crossed, with an amused expression. For a split second he contemplated resorting to violence, though he’d have to throw punches since he remained wandless.

He quelled his Gryffindor instinct, however, when another idea crossed his mind. If Draco wouldn’t wake, he’d just have to get him out of there on his own.

Without further thought or hesitation, Harry scooped Draco up into his arms and, though his lanky, weighted form made it difficult to balance, began heading in the opposite direction. Maybe, if he could just get back to the door that had once connected to the library...

Draco’s head bobbed lifelessly as Harry’s grip tightened, refusing to let him drop as he pressed forward.

It must’ve been the adrenaline, or his instinctive desire to protect the boy in his arms, but he was able to continue without much trouble.

Behind him, he heard an angry voice call out.

“That’s not how this works! You cannot take him! He can’t leave his own mind!”

Harry did his best to ignore the objections of his newest nemesis. He wasn’t sure if his makeshift plan would even work, let alone leave them unscathed.

He was passing aisles and aisles of memories, resolutely pressing onward, when he realized that there were now footsteps peddling not far from him. He didn’t dare turn around to see how close he was gaining on them and instead gripped Draco’s body tighter.

He could see the doorway ahead, a looming entrance beyond that fueled his exhausted legs. He only now realized that he was sweating, droplets rolling off the back of his neck from the anticipation.

Draco’s head lolled a bit as he tried to pick up his pace, the footsteps behind him booming louder with closeness.

He made a mental note to apologize to him later for the impending crick in his neck.

Harry’s heart raced. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d run so hard; even the Triwizard Tournament didn’t hold a candle to the determination that resonated throughout him now.

Hell, maybe they’d have a chance. Maybe they’d emerge through that door, and Draco would wake up. And Harry would tell him all of these crazy thoughts and realizations he’d been having over the course of each memory.

And Draco would laugh, and then call Harry a prat or something before confessing all of his own pent up feelings. Things would be great, things would be wonderful, things would be-

Stabbing pain shot through the back of his legs, a burning curse sent along the course of each popliteal artery. He fought against it, he gritted his teeth with sudden veracity, only barely shaking the boy in his arms...

But he collapsed. And Draco was tossed a bit forward, landing like stone against the floor a few feet ahead. Harry cringed, trying to mask his own pain while reaching toward Draco’s now bruised body.

He couldn’t stand, he could hardly move as the fire traveled into his toes and up his hamstrings. he knew things were getting close to the end, or something like it, when a shadow above him signaled the very presence of his captor.

Harry couldn’t speak. He tried to adjust his glasses, which had become severely skewed in the fall. It was a faulty attempt at distracting himself.

“There, now that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” The voice above him taunted, and Harry began to crawl forward as the pain subsided slightly. The curse must’ve been wearing off.

There was a sigh, an audibly exhausted and frustrated noise. Harry could feel the eerie presence of a wand pointed in his direction.

“You leave me no choice. Crucio.”

“Ah!” A contorted cry twisted from his throat, an unsuspecting croak to voice the indescribable pain. His legs weren’t on fire, his whole body was engulfed in flames. There was no other way to explain the burning of every cell, the sensation of melting flesh from his own bones. His head throbbed thoughtlessly, chest was tight with asphyxiation. He twitched involuntarily, the body’s response to a game played entirely on the mind.

And there he lay, at a complete standstill. His vision was blurry, the colors of the world around them a giant mixing pot. Noises ran incomprehensible as the pain continued to accelerate. He was sure he was dying- he had to be dying.

And in the midst of it all, he saw a single face: blonde tendrils falling against sharp cheek bones. They were pulled taut from the large smile that he wore, and it was beautiful. Absolutely stunning.

He could almost hear his voice, muffled by his own immune response to the curse. He was laughing, and it sounded like windchimes or something equally as tranquil...

And then he wasn’t. He was speaking words that were incoherent, something about stopping... and don’t hurt him?

And this confused Harry, but he couldn’t make sense of it. Not through the pain...

Everything went fuzzy, like static. It was probably because his body couldn’t take it any more, not when it’s own psyche had betrayed it.

But despite the discomfort of pins and needles prickling every surface of his body, Harry suddenly was coherent enough to realize that he wasn’t in pain anymore. What the...

His eyes had squeezed shut through the chaos, a minor defense mechanism that now ended as they sprung open.

What he witnessed had to be some sort of miracle. Where Draco’s limp body had lay was nothing but an empty space, vacant and wandering before him. He strained to lift his head, desperate to find what the bastard behind him had done with Draco’s body.

He was completely floored when, instead, he heard voices that increasingly became more clear.

“Ah, I see you’ve woken. You must be getting close.”

Draco’s tone was a shaky indulgence to the fear that gripped his being.  
“What the fuck is going on?”

“It was the killing curse, don’t you see? Some rather dark magic. Right up my alley, if I say so myself. It couldn’t take your life, as it was merely a memory. And so, it sent you here, Within the depths of your own mind. Awful things have happened to wizards who have attempted to alter memories, you know.”

“You... you’re a monster.” Draco sounded confused but apprehensive. Harry tried to turn his head, but everything was numb. He was still recovering.

“Perhaps. But I was created by and born of your own monsters. Thus who is there to blame but yourself?”

Draco was silent and contemplative. “Why did I wake up?” Now, fear had transformed into determination. He wanted answers.

He laughed maniacally, and Harry attempted to pull himself toward the sound. His attempts were futile; they went unnoticed.

“When you dove in front of that killing curse, your act was immediately etched into your memories. As soon as I saw it happen, I knew what was to come. And I myself wanted to intervene.”

Harry could hear pacing as he continued to divulge.

“I knew that if you were sent to your subconscious, I would have the control that I’ve been denied thus far. You see, you’ve been giving far too much weight to your more irreproachable senses as of late. Some would even say you’ve changed for the better.” He paused, and Harry could almost feel the daggers glaring in Draco’s direction.

“I happen to disagree. The more darkness you feel and experience, the bigger I become. And the more power I receive.”

Draco was quiet, and Harry wondered just what he was thinking as he desperately pulled himself forward. All he would need is a better grip, and then, numb or not, he could stand...

His attention was diverted to a trembling but firm voice from behind.

“Fuck you.”

Another laugh. “Still holding on, huh? Let me put it this way, Draco. Give in to me, allow me to take full control of your mind, or you will never leave.”

A small gasp, quickly stifled. A heavy inspiration. “I said. Fuck you.”

“Is that any way to talk to Daddy dearest? May I remind you just of who you’re talking to?” His voice was sharp and ghastly, a menacing undertone taking precedence.

Harry lifted his head, finally in control of his muscles. A sudden wind seemed to whip out of nowhere. He could see Draco shielding his eyes as the memory orbs around them shook and threatened to break. He focused on the older Malfoy’s form, who rested his shoulders in an amused fashion. He bore a wicked grin on his face.

And all at once, certain memories started falling from the shelves and shattering against the floor. Their contents were projected high above them, like a theater screen playing a movie. It was images of Draco, and his father, and every dastardly thing that had happened to him wide on display.

He was bawling, and angry, and desperate in the pictures, but Harry had seen all of these emotions from Draco before. He stood there, wide eyed, staring blankly as the wind continued to twist around them. Harry could only watch as he re-lived his most repressed memories, shaking profusely as the images became more grotesque.

There was violence, bruises left on parts of Draco that Harry wanted to touch and heal. Apparently the Cruciatus curse hadn’t been enough of a punishment at times. Draco watched himself become beaten to a bloody pulp, begging for forgiveness to the man that was supposed to love him.

His body was buckling, and Harry knew he was having some sort of panic attack. The trauma, it was far too much... Harry wouldn’t blame the boy for giving in, his father’s hold on him much like the kiss of a dementor...

A stomp interrupted the scene, a loud noise opposed to the soft cries of each memory. It was Draco’s foot, brought forward in a fury, and from his level Harry could see that heavy tears had hit the floor in front of him.

Flabbergasted and confused, Black-eyed Lucius broke his concentration and thus the wind died around them.

“If you have any ties at all to my Daddy dearest, then you won’t mind delivering the message for me: Fuck you.”

He cocked his head, a frustrated expression creeping along the hard lines of his mouth.

“Fine, have it your way. I’ll trap you myself.”

Harry propped himself on hands, slowly pulling himself forward as his feeling returned. It was at this moment that the monster before them lifted his hands, gesturing as if to raise something from the ground.

All around them, puffs of coal colored smoke signaled the arrival of something truly dark. Behind the ebony clouds appeared identical creatures that neither Harry or Draco had ever seen before. They rose robotically into a standing position, which seemed utterly impossible on their insect-like appendages. They had a hard exoskeleton, and antennae that protruded bluntly from the forehead. What caused Harry to gasp in fear, however, were the eyes. They were an alarming crimson, and it was as if they could see into your soul with a passing glance. Like their very presence was burned into your subconscious.

There was a spiteful chuckle from the Elder Malfoy as each pair of red eyes landed on them. Harry, frozen with fear and a sudden feeling of dread, remained on the ground with his hands forward. Draco began to back up slowly, his eyes wide with fear and anticipation.

He inched backward as prey surrounded by the enemy before abruptly turning his head to the ground. To Harry.

When their eyes met, Harry couldn’t breathe. But behind the sincerity of Draco’s gaze was something more pressing.

He reached out a hand. “Harry, come on, we’ve got to get the fuck out of here.”

Finally finding it in him to move, he nodded wordlessly and grasped his hand to pull himself upward. He wiggled his toes, gaining his balance as they stopped once more.

Things became eerily quiet and still as the creatures held a scrutinizing gaze with them both.

Lucius grinned, an unsettling match to the insanity in his colorless eyes.

“Go. Now.” Draco demanded shortly, and they both turned, hand in hand, and began sprinting toward the exit.

A wicked laugh from behind them. “You can’t run from your demons, Draco! They are your demons, after all!”

They didn’t dare look back but continued forward in the most disheveled of ways. Harry’s legs were jelly, flopping beneath him clumsily as Draco picked up the slack and pulled them forward. He couldn’t tell how much progress they’d made but knew by the unnatural tapping of shelled feet that the creatures were in tow.

Beads of sweat were trailing from Draco’s brow, half from physical exertion but partly from fear and uncertainty. Harry couldn’t help but steal a glance in his direction as they ran. Even now, buried in a layer of subconscious and running from a gang of self-made demons... he was beautiful. And pure.

When he returned his glance before them, he noticed the approaching door where he’d originally entered, perched along the wall with a permanence that felt like home.

They were almost there.

But the clomping of their followers was growing louder, and louder, and as they drew near their reprieve Harry couldn’t help but steal a backward glance in their direction.

The most unsettling thing of all was the presence of one of them directly behind him.

Upon meeting its gaze, Harry felt his energy drain from him, leaving him frail and restless as he collapsed onto the floor. They were close, so close, and one wouldn’t have blamed Draco Malfoy if he’d kept going the last few strides to safety.

But that wasn’t Draco Malfoy anymore.

He spun around, shrieking as Harry hit the ground. Instinctively, he ran forward, pushing the ant-like creature with both hands so as to create distance between them. “Get the fuck away from him!” He called, but the others were gaining on them, and soon, they were surrounded.

Draco knelt by Harry, a protective arm looped beneath his biceps for support. As they stared motionlessly above them, Draco felt helpless. And that’s when he had an epiphany.

Most of his life, he’d felt this way. Out of control and restless, like his fate rested in the hands of those who wanted to play him like a pawn. Of those who consistently mistreated him and broke the promises that he deserved to have kept. If Remus Lupin could be good, bitten into darkness but refusing to into it, then so could Draco. If Sirius Black had been willing to rebel against those who had raised him to become his own person... then so could he. If Harry could consistently defy the Dark Lord in hopes of living in a world without him... then so could he.

Even if his life depended on it, he was tired of running. Of allowing his helplessness to ruin him.

At once, he stood tall, careful to stand near Harry protectively.

“You can’t hurt me,” he stated somewhat confidently. “This is my subconscious, and my memories, and my mind. And I say that you. Can’t. Fucking. Hurt me.”

He annunciated each syllable through gritted teeth that bore the fight he was committing to. Beneath him, Harry felt a spark run through him. Like an electric shock that briefly reminded his organs to work.

The creatures stood their ground, eyes sinking into Draco deceptively.

“All of you! Get the fuck out of here! Do you hear me? I’m done being afraid. You don’t scare me anymore!”

He yelled passionately, and for a moment, nothing happened. But then... more sparks. Harry felt his stomach lurch as the electricity flowed through his blood and seemed to revitalize every part of him, piece by piece.

It reached his trunk, and arms, and legs, and finally his head. He took Draco’s hand and rose from the ground cautiously. What the fuck was happening?

Harry’s eyes trailed the surrounding beings, but something was off. They stood motionless, as if they weren’t allowed by some invisible command to move. Black smoke began to cloud the area, arriving from nowhere and similarly leaving. Draco coughed as it filled their immediate surroundings, blinding their vision momentarily.

When it cleared soon after, the insectile beings were nowhere to be found. Harry squeezed Draco’s hand before they shared an understanding look.

“Should we get out of here?” Harry suggested, and with a wordless nod in affirmation they turned and started for the door.

The handle was steps away. Draco reached a hand forward, ready to grasp the knob and throw open the door to their escape. A violent pull on his left shoulder caused him to jerk backward, and Harry spun abruptly to find the culprit.

A heaving and irate Lucius Malfoy dug his fingernails into Draco’s skin, the expression on his face one that Harry would never be able to erase from his mind. His own personal reminder that darkness can live in every witch and wizard, regardless of intent.

His eyes were cold, mouth wound into a frown that accentuated every muscle taut against his sunken face.

He was withering. His once smooth complexion was now tattered with wrinkles and other abrupt signs of aging. His hair was brittle and unkempt; the hand that gripped Draco was bony and thin.

He gasped as he faced the man that once owned him. The man that now wasted away before him, clinging for one last chance at domination.

Harry seized the opportune moment to trek the last few steps toward the exit. He gripped the handle and threw the door open, but it was no library on the other side. Where an entrance to a memory had once stood was now replaced by the most blinding of lights, protruding with a yellow glow through the open doorway.

Harry couldn’t make out where the door led, only that it was the most glaring opposition of darkness.

“Draco!” He called, breaking his attention from the depraved man in front of him. “Let’s go!”

His skin was darkening, losing any and all pigment as it wasted away. And, all at once, Draco knew that he couldn’t leave the dying man here. Not like this. Not if he wanted to be free.

Harry stood at the door frame, holding onto one edge to keep himself from falling into the bizarre world of light beyond.

Draco slowly backed up, the man’s grip unwavering as they moved in sync. Harry was unable to speak, thoughts incoherent as he tried to piece together Draco’s undoing.

He took another step back, and another. Lucius held a firm grasp on both shoulders now. He was squeezing, like he could crush Draco with his bare hands.

Harry stared confusedly as Draco approached, so close to the door that he could push Harry through if he wanted to. That’s when his pivoted, green eyes meeting gray.

“Go. Now. Trust me.” He spoke softly, and Harry was about to refuse, to plead that they enter together. But he saw a desperation there, hidden beneath steel, and he knew not to argue. That it had to be this way, somehow. And he gulped, nodding subtly before stepping through the door to the unknown.

Behind him, Draco smiled with newfound confidence. A plan unfolding, he wrapped his knuckles around the biceps of the man before him and pulled, leading him out of his subconscious and into the light.


	14. Chapter 14

Harry had lost consciousness before, and he remembered it being dark. Like the cupboard under the stairs in the middle of the night, or an eerie dusk during a new moon. But this time, all of the usual sensations were accompanied by the most vivid, brilliant light. He felt himself hit the ground, and time slowed indefinitely.

He couldn’t feel, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. All he could do was wince beneath the blaring white that surrounded him and keep his eyes forcibly shut.

It was peaceful here, in a way, but there was something else he was supposed to be doing... a nagging sensation pulled at his gut, trying its damndest to remind him of something...

A jerking sensation. A heavy thump of something falling next to him, vibrating the cool ground beneath. Who else could possibly be interrupting his time here? Could it be...?

His eyes flew open as he rolled to his right. Beside him was Draco Malfoy, towering above the man that was withering more rapidly then ever. He had him pinned to the ground by the arms, a successful and vigorous glint in his focus.

Around them, the bright white background began to form into shapes. Rows of beds. Nightstands with potions and healing salves. The infirmary.

In his peripheral vision, Harry began to see figures. Glancing in their direction revealed a very recent Draco Malfoy perched in his own hospital bed with a bottle of skele-gro in one hand and the other cradling his jaw.

Madam Pomfrey was flitting about but stepped into her office when Pansy entered.

Harry started. This was... another memory...

Beside him, Draco pressed all of his strength into destroying the man below him.

“You can live forever in my subconscious, but you can’t survive here. Not out in the open. Not where you become just another memory for me to file away.”

The man was incapable of responding, mere bones beneath him. He screamed as his skin melted away, and his skeleton crunched and cracked as it rapidly decayed. It was mere seconds before he was silenced, his bony form decomposing to ash.

Draco stood, shaking, his face a mixture of relief and utter disbelief. Harry hopped to his feet as their eyes met, and his gaze held the same kind of shock that meant something big had happened. Something life changing.

Harry directed his gaze from Draco to the pile of ash below him and knew that he had won. Whatever demons he’d harbored, darkness he’d entailed... it was all gone now. Now, he was free.

Harry rushed forward, unable to contain himself. A balloon of emotion expanded within him, and it was inescapable as it clouded his chest and brought him to tears. He threw his arms around an unsuspecting Draco, who melted into the embrace as his own tears began to fall.

“You did it, Draco. You fucking did it.” Harry chanted, relaying the message again and again until it felt real.

Draco’s arms wrapped around him tightly as he rested his head on Harry’s shoulder and sobbed. It was so much all at once, a wave of emotion pulling him under and yet allowing him to breathe for the very first time.

Their moment was an eternity, wrapped to each other with a bond that required no words. When they did separate, Draco paused before fully retracting. There were mere inches hovering between each face, and Harry caught himself giddy with excitement. They’d escaped, and Draco, damnit, he’d won. He’d defeated every last doubt in his mind, every demon that threatened to turn him into a victim.

It was purely amazing, what he’d done. Hell, he was amazing, in every way, shape, and form.

He giggled lightly, unable to contain his feathery exuberance. And suddenly Draco was chuckling, too, shaking his head with amusement and a humble disbelief of his own accomplishment.

They laughed together, and it was a gorgeous noise. It was the sound of two enemies transformed into friends, and perhaps so much more. A warm acoustic to the silence of the memory; a song of victory.

They could’ve stayed like that forever, but why would they? There was an entire world outside of the pensieve waiting to be conquered.

Something behind Harry caught Draco’s attention, and before he pivoted to investigate he noticed a deep blush blooming across cheeks. Silly git, what was that for?

Behind them, the memory of the infirmary continued to play.

“So... do you wanna talk about it?” Pansy pressed facetiously, a humorous glint in her eye as she took a seat.

“Not even a little bit,” was the rushed response, and she laughed jovially.

“Well, I’m sorry to inform you that the rumors have already started, darling. Apparently you and Potter had quite the row.”

Immediately, Draco perked up. “What are they saying? What do you think happened?”

She giggled. “Relax, Relax. It’s nothing too bad. Just that the whole school knows you did something to piss off the Chosen One big time. He doesn’t punch just anyone, you know.” She winked, and Draco shuddered in the bed.

“I fucked up, Pans. I was trying to get information from him- about why he and the She-Weasel broke it off- and things escalated.” He winced, bringing a hand to his jaw. After a moment of cradling it, he continued. “I called him gay, and he hit me. He fucking hit me.”

Pansy’s mouth dropped briefly before she broke down into the loudest guffaw that Harry had ever heard from her.

“What’s so funny?” He snapped, holding his jaw as if he could piece it back together with his own hands.

“Isn’t it obvious, Draco?” She wiped tears from her eyes as the laughter settled. “He doesn’t know that you’re gay.” She lowered her voice. “So how do people react when they feel threatened? They start swinging.” She chuckled softly, but Draco remained confused.

“If I didn’t know any better,” she pressed, placing a hand on his knee. “I’d say that you too are both a couple of sexually frustrated morons who need to find reprieve with each other.”

Draco, flabbergasted, shot her a look of shock mixed with something Harry couldn’t quite place. “Pansy, what the-“

He gripped his jaw, unable to finish his sentence due to the pain that was clearly shooting through the fracture site.

“Oh, please, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. You two have a lot more in common now than you ever did before.” She leaned back, crossing her arms and legs with a smug expression that screamed self-satisfaction.

“I most certainly have NOT- thought about it-“ He winced as he fought to continue his argument, but his face was bright red and Harry had a nagging suspicion that it wasn’t from his swollen jaw.

“Okay, love. I’m just looking out for you AND your happiness. No one would judge you; I can assure you that much.”

“Yeah, Yeah, I got it.” His brows were narrowed in feigned annoyance.

Harry stole a glance to his right, desperate to see the reaction written across his face. He felt featherlight, even more so now that he was armed with the knowledge that Draco Malfoy had obviously contemplated some type of relationship between them prior to all of this. He grinned as his eyes befell crimson red cheeks that matched the memory of the Draco before them.

Harry’s heart began to pound erratically, anticipation flooding his being as he realized that there was no doubt of Draco Malfoy reciprocating these feelings. He felt a sudden urge to leap forward, to scoop him in his arms as the memory began to fade around them.

He had every intention of doing so, but something uncontrollable came over him first: a laugh. A giggle that welled from his stomach, bubbling upward as it escaped from his throat. There was something enchanting about how far they’d come. It was odd, and almost impossible, and Harry would have never seen it coming. And yet, here they were.

“What’s so funny?” Draco peered over, almost self consciously.

Harry couldn’t contain himself. “Ah, just... us.” He smiled warmly as their eyes met, Draco’s steel irises beginning to glow at the prospect of such a word.

His lips pulled upward in that crooked smile that Harry held dear to his heart. Without another word, Harry reached for Draco’s hand and held it gently as the memory came to a close.

***

Darkness. Everything was pitch black and eerily silent. Peacefully grounding Harry was the soft squeeze of Draco’s hand in his. He took a risk, lacing their fingers as the world settled into the darkest of nights.

“Draco,” Harry whispered as the world continued in bleating silence. “These are your memories, right? What the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t think this one’s mine, you prat.” His words were venomous, but the grip of their fingers intertwined only tightened.

“But then-where are we?” Harry thought aloud, but at that moment a shining headlight broke through the darkness. He used his remaining hand to shield his eyes as they adjusted, but what gave away their setting was the group of voices surrounding it.

“I cannot believe you actually got one.” Harry’s stomach leapt at the sound of his mother.

“I think it’s awesome.” His father marveled, practically drooling by the sound of his tone.

“Please, for the love of God, be careful.” Remus was face palming, Harry just knew it.

“Me? Careful? Never.” Black’s flippant tone was nothing short of affectionate, the smile dripping from his voice.

\- [ ] Their eyes began to adjust, and it was suddenly obvious just what the group was conversing over: a shiny, tuned to motorbike complete with its own sidecar.  
Harry beamed as Sirius Black mounted his new ride, complete with the leather coat and three days without shaving.

In the background was the Potter estate, and judging by their appearance, he could guess the setting was likely the summer after sixth year.

“Come on, Moony, join me!” He gestured to the side car.

“I swear if you kill us both...” Remus grumbled, but climbed in regardless.

“No fair! He gets first ride!?” James pouted, but Sirius winked.

“Sorry, Prongsy, he comes first.”

In the next second, they were rushing past, much faster than a typical Muggle motorcycle. Harry watched in awe as the vehicle lifted from the ground, sputtering a bit before taking flight in the distance.

Draco shook his head, amused.

“So, Lily, are you glad you came?”

The focus shifted to the couple before them. Lily’s genuine, closed-lip smile gave James to courage to wrap an arm around her shoulders.

“I am, actually. Thank you for having me.”

“Anything for you, my dear.” He wiggled his eyebrows in that waggish way that was wholly characteristic of James Potter.

Before, Lily would have rolled her eyes, stalking away as she judged his intentions. Not anymore.

This time, she grinned in a way that showed just how much trust she placed in the young man next to her. She didn’t object, not even in the slightest, when he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

Draco chuckled from beside Harry. “I can’t believe it. She gave him a chance. I never saw that coming.”

“I am alive, you know.”

Laughter, hands still wound innocently. When Sirius and Remus landed, James removed his arm with an apologetic glance at the redhead.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Go.”

James, exuberant, rushed to the side car as Remus stumbled out.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” he commented, but straightened up with a smile.

“You loved it, and you know it!” Sirius called, packing James in and hurriedly rushing off for round two.

“So, you and James, huh?” Remus speculated when they were in the distance. Lily chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess so. What about you and Sirius?”

Remus blushed, obvious even by the shy light of the moon.

“I love him.”

“I know.” She smiled intuitively. Remus returned the gesture, and the moment was a wholesome mixture that had Harry feeling fuzzy again.

“How’s he doing, now that he’s staying here?” Lily pressed, her concern for the boy obvious but better voiced through her closer friendship with Remus.

“Much better. He was banished from the Noble House of Black. They even burned his name from the family tree that they supposedly throw in everyone’s face as some kind of pure blood record.” He paused, a slight roll in his eyes.  
“Apparently they tried to bestow some kind of idea that he’d have an arranged marriage, and Sirius flipped shit and told them to fuck off. That’s when they threw him out.”

Lily nodded. “He’s much happier here.”  
“Yes.” Remus smiled as he watched the boys coming into view along the skyline.  
“Much happier. And much less lonely.”

When the boys landed, Sirius threw an arm around Remus as they decided to give the bike a rest in favor of indulging on Mrs. Potter’s home made pie.

After hiding his newest source of pride, the Marauders cantered back inside and took a seat at the rounded table perched in the center of the Potter’s kitchen.

“So, I got another apology owl from Pete last week.” Remus spoke as he forked his now second piece.

“Me, too, mate. He sounds pretty torn up about what happened.” James wiped the blackberries from his face before Sirius exploded.

“I hope he does! He almost got us all killed! I still don’t really understand how the fuck you’re alive, Remus!” His sincerity was humbling.

“I don’t either,” he stated quietly, sliding his fork against his plate in a mindless manner.

“He completely betrayed you and the rest of us. There’s no other way they could’ve found out where you were. I hope you’re not thinking about forgiving him!”

His anger was almost frightening, though clearly born out of care and concern.

“He made a mistake, Sirius.”

“A mistake!? Is that what you call that!?”

“I see you’re point, Sirius. But I think it’s up to Remus how the situation is handled, don’t you?” James was now the voice of reason.

Sirius folded his arms. “No! I don’t know. I just can’t stand to see the people I love most get hurt!”

“I think James is right, Sirius.” Lily spoke, eyeing him with genuine understanding.

His expression softened as he turned to Remus.

“What are you thinking, Rem? Is this something that’s important to you?” The concern was painted across his features, which always melted in his interactions with Moony.

“I’m not sure, yet. But I don’t think it’s an absolute negative. I can see that he really regrets what he did, and you know how Pete is susceptible to bullying...”

“Bullying, Yeah. That’s what hanging around with those Slytherin twats is called.”

“Sirius...”

A sigh from the other Marauder, who briefly folded his head in his hands before turning back to Remus.

“I trust you, Rem. Whatever you think is right, I’ll stand by you.”

Remus smiled. “Thank you.”

Their eyes met in a way that was much too intimate for the kitchen table.

“Okay, Okay, who wants another piece?” James interrupted knowingly, and the boys laughed.

“I’ll take the whole pie,” Sirius answered, and Remus rolled his eyes as an arm wrapped around his waist.

“Of course you will.”

Harry could see Draco’s amused smirk from the corner of his eye. The Marauders were laughing as the edges of the world morphed into darkness.

“Out of those two, you are totally Sirius.” Draco pointed out, unlacing their fingers to pivot and eye him humorously.

Harry laughed. “I suppose that’s a compliment, hm?”

“I guess,” he snickered, cheeks tinged with just the slightest shade of pink.

“Well, if I’m Sirius, who does that make you?” Harry meant this statement lightheartedly but felt his pulse skip as the words rolled from his tongue.

He could feel his own face burning as a silence settled between them. after all they’d been through, what was going to happen next?

A small eternity passed, and Draco stepped forward. His eyes held something hopeful, like he’d anticipated this moment for quite some time. Harry swallowed, a hard knot sliding down the back of his throat.

Their eyes were fixed as Draco’s face came closer, closer, until it hovered mere inches from Harry’s. He then proceeded to lift a hand, brushing his fingertips against his temple, trailing them inferiorly, tracing a line along his cheekbones and jaw.

And then, with a smile that was becoming characteristic of Draco Malfoy, he spoke: “Remus Lupin, you prat.”

Harry held his breath as the memory completely faded around them. It was only Draco and himself, heart-wrenchingly close to each other. He couldn’t help himself; his eyes flickered down to Malfoy’s lips. They were parted as they settled into something more serious, allowing the cool peppermint of his breath to wash over his senses.

Harry was swooning, unable to speak, or move... his eyes fluttered shut, and he felt his own lips separate thoughtlessly. Draco held his gaze, studying the dusting of his lashes against porcelain skin... the shape of the scar adorning his forehead with everything that he stood for... everything that was noble and right.

And he could take it no longer. He lifted his other hand, resting it on his left temporal bone, pulling him closer...

His eyes fell closed as their lips touched. There were no words to describe this moment, no syllables that could do it justice.

Sparks immediately prickled from the crown of Draco’s head to the tips of his toes in a sensation that sent his head reeling. Harry’s lips were chapped but persistent and fell to match his own perfectly. His mouth was warm and seemed to melt every last trace of fear remaining in his being. He felt whole, and safe, and... home...

He’d never felt that homely feeling until now: the sensation of fresh cooked meals and Christmas trees surrounded by family and friends. The implicit notion that no matter what happened, he’d always have a safe place to return to. It unraveled him from the core outward and he felt himself clinging to Harry. He never wanted to let this go, not as long as he lived. Never.

His fingers gripped tendrils of raven hair by the handful, tugging him impossibly closer. Harry only responded by mashing himself against his body, yearning for every piece of their essence to become matched. The Gryffindor seemed to lurch forward, teeth clicking against Draco’s as he allowed his mouth to succumb fully to their kiss. His hands were warm and left tingles as they wrapped around the bare skin of Draco’s neck.

They remained like this for some time, holding each other, pulling and gripping as if by some miracle each minute effort would assure their permanence. Their kiss deepened; Draco’s head tilted to allow more space for Harry.

He felt a tongue glide smoothly against his own, and it was one of the most intriguing sensations he’d ever felt. Draco was unable to control the soft moan that escaped his throat as he reciprocated.

This only fueled Harry’s already tightened grip, and suddenly his hands were sliding down his shoulders and arms. They glided smoothly against the surface of his body, memorizing every dip and curve of a Malfoy as they found refuge in the small of his back.

He positively melted when Harry’s hands tugged him closer, lining their bodies against one another in a perfect, heated match. He gasped softly against his lips, suddenly very aware of how close they were and unable to control the very real urges that began to rise like fire within.

Harry smiled, acutely cognizant of the reactionary tightening of Draco’s body against his own. His pulse was hammering; he wanted to continue like this forever. But something inside was slowing down, enjoying every moment. Hitting the breaks on the hungriness that threatened to devour them whole.

He slowly closed his lips around Draco’s, thin and smooth between his own. His pull loosened to a gentle caress of his lower back. They briefly separated, mere centimeters hollow between them before their lips met softly again. This kiss was a gentle promise, a delicate reflection of the butterflies that now replaced each ravenous flame. Draco kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him again in a succession that matched the reeling of Harry’s senses.

Each kiss was just as reassuring as its predecessor, a constant chain of unspoken vows that life would never be the same. Draco smiled against their lips, and Harry felt a blush deepen across his cheeks.

They finally separated, eyes fluttering open and allowing the world to fall back into place once piece at a time. Their eyes held, piercing green against cool gray, and it was perhaps even more beautiful than the first meet of their lips.

Breathing was heavy, hair disheveled, and lips swollen and ruby from a recent snog. Harry grinned, giddy, and Draco reciprocated without moving his hands.

Instead, he leaned his forehead foreword, resting it softly against Harry’s. He could smell his breath again with each exhalation, and it was a delicious addition to such a perfect pose...

“That- That was...” Draco breathed in a heady tone that was positively intoxicating. 

“Amazing.” Harry finished, and it was the most honest thing he’d ever stated or felt. Draco chuckled between breaths, a genuine grin bearing his teeth.

“Yeah, I think that covers it.” His lips closed to form a crooked, shy smile that resonated a seriousness between them.

Harry marveled at the boy before him. He was absolutely beautiful, and, somehow, he was his. The entire prospect was almost unbelievable. Almost.

The transitioning world around them had settled into an array of colors. Reds and golds and earthly tones that combined to form the sanctity of the Gryffindor dorm room. Before them were the same four poster beds from several other memories thus far.

It seemed to catch their attention simultaneously, and the boys separated to turn to the scene before them.

Suddenly feeling a strong absence without his touch, Harry instinctively reached for his hand and took hold. Slightly startled, Draco looked down before peering sideways with that crooked smile in place.  
Without a word, he laced their fingers together.

“Okay, Peter.”  
The voice belonged to James Potter, who was perched casually on his four poster. The boy unpacking his trunk in the corner jumped, clearly not expecting to be addressed.

He flipped around nervously, fidgeting with his hands as he made contact.

“M-me, Peter? You’re talking to me?”

“Who else would I be talking to?” James raised a suspicious eyebrow, and Peter hiccuped.

“I-I don’t know. I just didn’t expect you to talk to me ever again, that’s all.”

“Well, we’ve taken a vote,” Remus piped from a few beds down. “And, majority rules.” He sent a sideways glare at Sirius, who crossed his arms from the spot next to him. “We’re going to start talking to you again. In fact, I’ve forgiven you.”

Peter looked like he might shit himself at any moment. He was clearly in disbelief and began chewing his nails as he contemplated whether they were joking.

“Are- are you sure?” He finally spat out after what seemed like an awkward eternity.

“Yeah, mate. We’re sure. This is a one time pass, though.” James agreed, bringing the finality that was the seriousness of his mistake.

“And I swear to God, if you dare to fuck up and hurt Remus again, I will-“

“SIRIUS!” Remus interrupted from beside him. Peter’s eyes were huge. Harry wondered if his pants were still clean.

“Right. Uh... welcome back. I guess.” He pouted, and Remus laid a hand overtop his. It was clear that one Marauder had yet to forgive his mistake.

“I- I can hang out with you guys again?”

“Yes, Peter. You can hang out with us again.” Remus declared patiently.

“I- uhm- oh my god- uhm- thank you.” Peter stumbled as he continued to work at his nail beds. “I don’t deserve you- any of you. I am so...”

“We know. It’s okay, Peter. Let’s just try to start fresh.” Remus smiled softly, in that mature, open minded wya of his that Sirius both loved and hated.

Sometimes grudges weren’t bad if the other party deserved them. It would be a long time before he’d trust Peter again, that much was evident.

It was also evident that Remus Lupin loved him anyway. He rested his head on Sirius’s shoulder, and he began running his hand through Remus’s honey curls in response.

“I can’t believe it. They forgave him.” Draco observed, and Harry shrugged.

“Everyone deserves a second chance. Even people like Pettigrew, who waste them.” Harry paused, evaluating the thoughtful expression on Draco’s face.

“Especially you, Draco. You deserve much more than that. You deserve... you deserve the world.”

“How very kind of you, Saint Potter.” He chuckled softly and squeezed his hand. And then, with a seriousness that could move mountains, he turned his head and faced him directly.

“I won’t let you down, Harry. Not now, not ever.”

And those few words were enough to completely flip Harry’s world upside down.


	15. Chapter 15

They remained there, hands interlaced comfortably as the lighting suddenly dimmed. It was the same spot in the Gryffindor dormitory, but this time all of the beds appeared to be empty. All except one.

“Mind if I hang out in your four poster tonight?” Came the voice of Sirius Black, a facetious undertone to his question.

A chuckle from Remus, who was already buried beneath the sheets. “Where do you hang out every night?”

He turned the corner up, inviting him to climb in.

“Touché. But tonight’s different, Rem. James is with Lily, and Peter is Merlin knows where...” he slid beneath the sheets and placed a kiss to the side of Remus’s neck. “...said he’d be gone all night... that means no silencing charms for us...” He smiled, and Remus chuckled.

“Maybe we should still put some up. You know, just in case.”

Sirius continued to plant kisses to the side of his neck, trailing up to the base of his jaw and rubbing his nose gently along his ear... “mhm. You’re right, Rem. You’re pretty loud.”

“Speak for yourself, Pads.” Remus turned and pressed his lips to Black’s. It was sweet but bore an intensity that suddenly had Harry longing to grasp onto the blonde beside him for an encore. The love that those two shared was painfully obvious, and it caused Harry’s heart to throb with desire. Because the feeling that resonated between them with each kiss was achingly similar to how he felt about the boy who was currently holding his hand. He hiccuped, trying actively to suppress the giddy disbelief that bubbled in his chest as the scene played out.

Draco chuckled beside him and gave his hand a squeeze.

What was at first an innocent memory that they observed from afar was quickly becoming a heated moment that left the boys both embarrassed and red.

When Sirius in all of his exuberance rolled on top of Remus, Harry heard an audible gulp croak from Draco’s throat.

The air only thickened when he hastily shed Remus of his shirt, tossing it carelessly toward the ground in front of Harry. He jumped, jittery with awkwardness and anticipation. Draco (the hypocrite) began laughing heartily at his misfortune, but it was obvious that it was his own giddy attempt at settling the mood.

It worked, to an extent. Harry couldn’t help but giggle himself, shaking his head at his own nerves. It was a brief distraction, and Draco’s eyes met his own for a moment. Their reprieve was disrupted by a moan coming from the direction of the four poster, and Harry choked at the utter intrusion of privacy.

Before he had a chance to turn around, or dart his eyes in another direction, a set of shorts was thrown to the ground. Draco, whose own eyes were glued ahead, allowed his mouth to settle into a soft “o” as the blood rushed visibly to his cheeks.

“Love you, Moony.” Was the rough whisper of Sirius Black, and in between chains of kisses came the reply: “I love you, too, you big pup.”

“I could say the same thing about you, you know.”

“Yeah, sure, but-“ Remus’s witty reply was cut short by his own sudden gasp and uncontrollable moan. His head his the pillow, an exasperated reaction to what Harry could only speculate was pleasure.

“Where are Black’s hands, Harry? Are they- oh my god- is he-?”

“I, uh- yeah. I think He is.”

Harry couldn’t form words. He couldn’t speak or hardly think through the fog of embarrassment that flooded the area. All he knew was that they were spying on something far too private, and that they needed to leave- or look away- or something. But Draco, in all of his shock, had his eyes positively fixed on the couple before them. He was frozen to the spot, unable to glance away from what both intrigued and absolutely humiliated him.

“Dr-Draco-“ Harry stuttered, formulating syllables to the best of his ability.

But at that moment, Remus Lupin let out the loudest noise that Harry had ever heard come from anyone in that situation EVER- not that he’d heard that situation at all, really- but it was enough to cause him to jump a second time and suddenly he realized that he’d hopped straight toward Draco, who was pulled from the sight before them and was now glancing at Harry up and down like he was something he nervously wanted to eat.

“H-Harry- uh...”

“We should probably...”

“Yeah, we should...”

But neither of them moved a muscle. Instead, they locked stares that seemed to migrate across each other, hungrily searching for something that went unspoken.

Draco’s eyes flickered down to Harry’s abdomen, or perhaps something lower, and had it not been for his Godfather getting it on a few feet away he knew he’d use this moment to claim Draco as his own.

Despite the blatant lack of silencing spells before them, Draco’s eyes held a fiery desire that Harry had never seen before. And all at once he was unable to fathom how in these circumstances, he could suddenly be feeling so... aroused...?

He gulped again, wondering if he was going absolutely insane, if maybe it was just the discomfort of it all that was making his palms sweat. If the tightening in his pants was because the air... was so thick... it was sort of hard to breathe...

His lips parted slightly. He hadn’t meant to run his tongue across the bottom one but it was a reflex that he didn’t quite understand let alone control as he continued to gaze up and down at Draco.

A plethora of emotions flashed across his face as he comprehended Harry’s involuntary gesture. It was surprise, and disbelief, and a settling hunger... his face morphed into an unreadable expression before he mashed their bodies irrevocably close, wrapping his arms around Harry tightly as if he never planned on letting go.

Okay, okay, he wasn’t crazy, and that was a relief. A sort of sick and twisted freak maybe, but not insane. And if he was somewhat of a hormonal weirdo, at least Draco was, too, and for some reason that made it feel a bit more alright.

Harry felt his own body melt into every curve and bend of Draco’s, and it was as if they were more alone than they’d ever been before.

Their lips met once more, but this time it was like opening the front cover to a book Harry had never read before. There was passion and a ravenous electricity that frayed every nerve on site. Harry had never been kissed, not like this, and it quickly became evident that everything before this moment- this person- was a waste of time.

Draco’s tongue lapped at Harry’s, and there was no denying how bad he wanted this. He opened his mouth, a perfect invitation, and they danced in sync, in perfect harmony. He wondered if Draco could feel his pulse, chest against chest, and if he was impressed by its rapid thrumming.

He was definitely in awe at how Draco held him, how his hands slid down to his hip bones and hooked there. There was no comparing the smoothness of his stomach nestled against the groove of his own, their legs almost intertwined, and something warm, pressing against the inside of his leg...

At the blooming knowledge of what exactly that was, Harry thought he might choke. Holy fuck, he was wonderful, and perfect, and he felt that for him... He leaned deeper into their kiss, tightened his hold on Draco’s back. Pressed his pelvis forward so that Draco could experience what reciprocation felt like.

He wanted him to know just how loved he was.

Draco stiffened immediately, acutely aware of what was happening down low, unable to stop the raging want that coursed throughout each short circuited muscle and nerve...

Harry began placing kisses down the line of his jaw, moving gently to his neck, making his way to his left shoulder...

“Potter,” he breathed heavily, “I swear to Merlin, when we get out of detention...”

Hardy nodded against the crook of his neck. “We’ll need some silencing charms.”

A chuckle, a soft release from the boy above him.

“Perhaps. And I’ll have to find a way to sneak you into the dungeons.”

“Come on, you don’t want to come to this lovely room that surrounds us?”

“Please, Potter...” Harry pressed another kiss to the smooth skin of his neck. “The decor alone makes me want to vomit.”

Harry rested his head against a shoulder, giggling quietly.

“Please, don’t vomit on me while we’re doing that.”

Draco playfully poked Harry in the ribs, a smile adorning his face as the prospect of what exactly “that” was floated in the air between them. This was all a new adventure, and Harry couldn’t wait to dive in.

Behind them, a loud whispering brought them back to reality.

“Sirius! Where’s your wand?”

“I don’t know, it’s around here somewhere. Why?”

“To clean up! Wait- are you telling me you never casted the silencing charms?”

Draco and Harry peered over to see Sirius Black giving the most pathetic of smiles with his characteristic puppy dog eyes and a shrug.

Suddenly, a pillow was thrown in his direction. He dodged it with a grin before resuming his post atop of Remus.

“You still love me.”

“That, I do.”

Draco smiled softly at the sentiment. Harry, following a bit of courage, draped an arm around his waist.

An odd and embarrassing memory, but one that came to a close with Harry smiling and Draco resting his head against his shoulder. For the moment, it seemed that everything was going to be alright.


	16. Chapter 16

It was a beautiful day outside. The skies were a crisp blue that reflected off of the Black Lake; the trees held a sort of green vibrance to them that seemed to happen before autumn took hold. Students were scattered about the castle grounds playing exploding snap and enjoying the sunshine. Beneath their typical oak tree hangout spot were the Marauders with their newest member Lily Evans perched relaxedly against James.

No longer trying to hide their romance, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black were tangled up in one another, hands far from lonely. Peter laid with his eyes closed, soaking up the rays and debatably napping.

It was a typical day after class for the group of friends in their seventh year, it seemed.

From the corner of the grounds came another group of students looking far less carefree as they approached the crowds.

Leading them was none other than Lucius Malfoy. Harry stole a glance at Draco, who seemed relaxed as ever. It appeared that he really had in fact been set free.

As they passed the area where the Marauders rested, it surprisingly looked like they weren’t going to stop. No snide comments; no rude glances in their direction. It was almost suspicious, how indifferent they were.

Until one member of their clique noticed something he hadn’t before from the corner of his sight.

Remus Lupin, with a silly smile, had placed a peck to Sirius’s left cheek. In response, the more dramatic of the two pulled him in for full on mouth to mouth.

Regulus Black froze mid-step as the others continued to pace forward. His face was contorted into the most disgusted expression, a tactless gesture that demonstrated his inability or ill desire to hold back his opinion.

His stare held daggers in their direction, and it was only a moment before they became aware of his position.

“What’s your problem?” James called before Sirius had a chance to react.

Regulus didn’t reply, flabbergasted as Sirius looped an arm around Remus defensively. At the same time, the rest of the Slytherin gang noticed him hanging back and pivoted to investigate.

“You disgust me,” Regulus spat at his brother, brow furrowed in obvious anger.

“Well, would you look at that? Loony Lupin and the Blood traitor are in love.” Lucius Malfoy stepped forward, adding his two cents to the already blooming confrontation.

“Leave them alone!” Lily cried from beneath James’s arm, but Sirius was already standing and fumbling for his wand.

Peter remained silent but had sat up to nervously watch the battle unfold.

“Was it not obvious to you that your brother was a fairy? I mean, it seemed pretty blatant to me this entire time.” Severus Snape raised a single brow condescendingly.

Regulus didn’t respond but continued to glare.

“Don’t let them bother you, Reg. Know that it grosses us all out equally,” Bellatrix added with a wicked grin.

“How about you all just shut the fuck up?” Sirius moved to step forward, but Remus held a grip to his hand and gazed at him pleadingly.

“Please, Sir. They’ve caused us enough trouble already.” He spoke softly, resistant to the Slytherin’s bait tactics.

A thoughtful expression crossed Black’s face as he calmed, an effect that only Remus Lupin could claim on him.

“You know what? Remus is right. Fuck you twats and your bigoted opinions. It’s none of your goddamn business what we do.”

A moment of heavy silence, killing glances held On both sides.

“Come on, Regulus. He’s not worth your time.” Lucius coaxed, and the others began to trail after him. A moment behind, Regulus Black gave both his brother and Lupin another once over before making a decision that would forever ingrain the present dynamic.

He pivoted on his heel to rejoin his group, but paused momentarily to jut out his chin and spit directly at the two Gryffindors.

This was infinitely worse than any words he could’ve thrown at them, any hand signals or insults jabbed their way. It was deep, and vulgar, and completely unacceptable.

He trotted in the opposite direction, robes billowing slightly at the quickness of his pace. Not a microsecond had passed before an instinct-driven James and Lily were on their feet and calling after him.

“What the fuck? Get back here, Black! You don’t get to treat my brother that way!” 

Regulus Black froze at the sentiment of James Potter. Slowly, he turned to face the opposing side. Overhearing the commotion, Severus Snape approached from behind and stood protectively next to his housemate.

They were face to face now, James’s breath heavy with anger as he and Lily closed the space between them.

“Your brother? Thats right. You can fucking have him. I want nothing to do with that faggot.”

Draco gasped softly from beside Harry, engrossed in the conflict. Clearly wanting Regulus to pull his head out of his arse. Using this memory as a learning tool for himself and all that he now stood for.

The only sound that pierced the next moment was the hard slam of James Potter’s fist across his face.

Severus Snape immediately had his wand drawn, but Lily was faster. The end result was a showdown between them both that began with Snape’s shocked and hurt expression but continued with Lily’s resolute one.

His face quickly morphed into something more stoic, though the surprise was evident in his eyes. Even with her budding relationship with James Potter, it was clear that he never expected her to stand up for Sirius Black.

Regulus clutched his jaw with both hands, whimpering slightly as he gritted his teeth through the pain. He shot one last look of contempt in their direction before skittering away. Snape’s gaze lingered on Lily a bit longer as if he was pleading silently for things between them to mend. When her expression remained resolute and narrowed, he made the regrettable but snap decision to follow in Regulus’s footsteps.

When they were gone, she finally lowered her wand.

“Are you Alright?” She asked James, who smiled comfortingly.

“I’m fine, but I don’t think the same can be said for your brother’s face.” His answer was directed toward an approaching Sirius and Remus.

“Mate, That was bloody brilliant. Hands down, the best punch I’ve seen you throw yet.” Sirius’s exuberance was matched only by the underlying tone of thankfulness that coated his words.

“Better than that time Snivellus felt my wrath in fourth year?”

“Oh, much better.” Sirius grinned, almost forgetting the reason why James had confronted the younger Black in the first place.

“You didn’t have to do that, James. But... thank you.” Remus’s sincerity could melt steel.

“I just can’t believe he... did what he did.” Peter shuffled his feet, eyes down south.

“Yeah, well, I can.” Surprisingly, it was Lily Who put her foot forward. “Forgive me, but I think it’s safe to say that we got the most noble of the house of Black.”

Sirius raised his brows, not used to receiving such compliments from the redhead. Especially ones of character.

“Thanks, Evans. You’re not so bad yourself.” She grinned at his remark, and Remus extended a hand toward the center of the group.

“To kicking arse. And not giving a fuck what anyone thinks.” He stole a glance at Sirius, who grinned warmly before placing his hand on top of Remus’s.

“I can attest to that.” James added his palm forward, and Lily followed with a genuine smile. The group looked to Peter, who placed his hand centrally without a word.

“One, two, three, Marauders.” Remus chanted, and their hands dipped before raising up into the air.

It was one of those infinite moments that Harry knew would remain alive forever, if only in a memory.

It was one that he would keep close to his own heart forever.

***

“Harry? How long do you think we’ve been in detention?” Draco asked as the world began to shift.

“Jeez, it feels like years. I’m sure it’s got to be getting late, right? Or maybe it’s just the way time flows here.”

“Do you wish you were somewhere else?” Draco asked, the cloudy grey of his eyes vulnerable as they peered into Harry’s.

“Not particularly, no. It’s kind of nice and relaxing viewing these memories, now that I know you’re alive and all.”

Draco smirked, amused. His gaze softened. “Thanks, by the way. For coming after me. Even if it was just the workings of your hero complex.” Humor danced along the corners of his eyes as they pulled upward contentedly.

“My hero complex?” Harry laughed. “Believe me, Draco. I’ll give you saving Gabrielle during the TriWizard Tournament. But you? I would’ve died for you.”

Draco’s lips relaxed into a more serious line. “Die? For me?” The words were a whisper, disbelief and shock permeating the air.

“Yes. For you. Always for you.” Harry had never been so honest, and he could feel the openness vibrating through his bones as his body faced Draco.

“You bloody Gryffindor.” There it was, that crooked smile. His favorite.

“Goddamn reptile.”

“Hey! A reptile that would die for you as well, you know.”

“But why?” Harry cocked his head, unable to wrap his brain around someone who would willingly die for him. Not with the intent of defeating Voldemort, or winning a war, or for other justifiable reasons... but simply because he was Harry.

“Isn’t it obvious? Because I love you. You insufferable git.”

Harry melted, his organs somewhere on the floor of a memory. He’d never been told this before. He’d never felt this before. There were no words to describe the warmth that trickled from his head to his toes, threatening to pull him under a blanket of tranquility. A reactionary grin tugged at his face until his cheeks hurt from being pulled so tight.

“I love you, too. Ferret.”

“Can’t we go back to reptile?”

“No, we’re sticking with ferret. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that.”

“Trust me, NO ONE has forgotten about that.”

Harry’s grin was still taut as he wrapped a possessive arm around the small of Draco’s back.

This was his Malfoy, and he loved him, and he would never allow anything to change that.

***

 

“Okay, Okay, guys, I’m sure you’re all wondering why we’ve gathered you here today.” At the forefront of the Potter Estate living room was James, giving some sort of speech to a den full of people.

Beside him stood Lily, whose eyes were bright with excitement.

“I know why! I know the reason!” Sirius cried, unable to contain himself. Of course the Marauders knew; they knew everything before everyone else did.

“Shhh! Sirius! Let him tell them!” Hushed Remus who stood by closely with arm around his waist.

A laugh from James, who was jittery with excitement. “We’ve brought you here to this party to celebrate something. And that something is my engagement to the beautiful Ms. Lily Evans!”

He gestured toward her, and her cheeks blended into her hair at the sudden attention. She only smiled, however, beaming at the man she’d said yes to.

The room burst into applause. Peter, who had already started on the cake, held his fork in his mouth so as to free both hands for a standing ovation. Sirius whistled, his friendship with Lily a continuously blooming phenomenon. He’d never been happier for his best friend/brother, that much was evident.

Draco and Harry joined in on the clapping, and there was an air of freedom that hung across the room. Like they were celebrating so much more than the event at hand. Harry felt like he could fly; he was featherlight with contentment. Draco hooped beside him, joining in on the festivities with ease.

Harry snickered, and Draco shrugged nonchalantly. “If it weren’t for this moment, I wouldn’t have you now.”

“Did you just say that?”

“I think I did. I know, it’s hard for me to believe it, too.” He grinned with playful sarcasm. Meanwhile, Peter grabbed another piece of cake behind him.

Harry laughed as their attention turned back to the front.

“So, everyone, sit back, enjoy the refreshments, and try to keep your hands off me because I’m soon to be married man!” Chortles rang throughout the crowd, and Sirius took his opportunity to cat call.

Remus, shaking his head, laughed lightly. The party continued, and Draco muttered something about wishing they could eat the food in these memories.

Harry watched as his Godfather led Remus Lupin out of the back door, and his curiosity led him to follow.

“Are you having fun, Rem?” He asked as they settled into a few chairs that were aimed to look at the stars.

“Yes, of course. I’m honestly ecstatic that those two are going to make it official.”

“Do you think that you’d ever make it official with me?” Sirius asked, cocking his head with a curious glint in his eye.

“Of course I would, you oaf. The second you propose, I’ll fall into your arms, like this-“  
He dramatically folded himself backwards onto Sirius’s lap before chuckling at his own lightheartedness.

Sirius smiled but gazed seriously into his eyes, brushing a honey curl from his face and tucking it behind his ear.

At this moment, Draco appeared beside Harry to observe the happenings before them. He didn’t say a word but followed HArry’s gaze religiously.

“Remus Lupin, will you marry me?”

His laughter quelled softly, and he paused to contemplate the look in the eyes that bore into him from above.

A skeptical expression crossed his face that prompted Sirius to continue.

“I know this is probably not the way you’d imagine this moment, but I just- I want to make you mine. Forever. I want the world to know how I’ve felt about you for years.”

“You’re- you’re serious.”

“Yes, and you’re Remus, and I believe I just proposed to you.”

Remus Lupin’s mouth dropped, and for a moment it seemed he didn’t know how to respond. But after another second passed, his instincts won and he reached his neck and hands upward to bring their lips together.

Their kiss was slow, and soft, and when they separated there was an adventurous gleam in Remus’s amber eyes.

“Yes, Padfoot. I wouldn’t dare dream of having this any other way.”

“Oh my god, Moony, did you just agree!? Did we just-“ his features were ecstatic as he pulled him up the rest of the way and pressed their lips together again.

“Did they just-“ Draco continued, and Harry nodded with a grin, momentarily forgetting that they were only in a memory.

“That, they did.”

***

Harry and Draco were about to head back inside when a loud crack startled them both. Harry instinctively grasped Draco’s hand, as if he could shove him behind his own body if need be.

They glanced around, deciphering the cause of such a noise when the familiar figure of Albus Dumbledore rounded the outer corner of the estate.

“Draco, Harry. I have come to bring you back to Hogwarts. I’m afraid that something horrible had happened.”


	17. Chapter 17

“What is it Professor? What’s happened?” Harry questioned anxiously, momentarily letting go of Draco’s hand.

“There’s been a break through the warding of Hogwarts. It’s been penetrated, or somehow bypassed. There are...intruders, within the walls of the castle.”

“Who is it, Head master? Is it the Death Eaters?” Draco questioned confidently, a sick feeling in his gut confirming his suspicion.

“I’m afraid so, Mr. Malfoy. I don’t know how many of them there are yet. Professor McGonnagall is rounding up the students as we speak. Voldemort’s men are likely to be searching for one of you, if not both.” He wore a grave expression that reflected his concern.

Draco nodded once, readying himself for the unexpected. Who knew why, or how, but someone had lost faith in him. And now, Draco suspected, they’d want to do the job of killing Albus Dumbledore themselves.

“I know that you two have somewhat of a jagged history. But I do hope that in these dire times you may be able to set aside your differences as you seem to have been doing in detention.” He glanced between the two, and Harry nodded determinedly.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Professor.”

Draco gave a single nod in agreement. “Headmaster, you should know- I know why they’re here, or at least I believe I do.”

Albus Dumbledore, in all of his omnipotence, smiled softly. “Mr. Malfoy, Dare I Say that I am very proud of the young man you have become. Now, if the both of you will take my hand...”

In the moment before he reached his hand to grip onto the Headmaster, Harry’s attention was snagged by the motion of Sirius and Remus in his peripheral vision. They were so happy, the way they held onto each other, alone and completely consumed by their feelings.

And then, like a train that was violently thrown from its tracks... Harry remembered. He remembered how this story would end. How the forgiveness unfairly bestowed upon Peter Pettigrew by his parents would result in their ultimate betrayal. How the innocence and freedom of Sirius Black was soon to be robbed from him in exchange for 12 years of suffering in Azkaban. How Remus Lupin never got to change his last name and instead spent more than the next decade believing that the love of his life had been the one to steal every last shred of happiness that he’d been given.

How even after the death of James and Lily Potter, life had to continue in a gray monotony that only improved upon Sirius Black’s escape.

How wonderful and bright reality must have been for Remus Lupin in the brief period of time that he had regained Sirius Black in his life.

How that happiness was short lived. How Sirius Black’s ending had been in the Department of Mysteries. How hard it was to not believe that it was all his own fault-

“Harry,” the soft whisper of Draco snapped him from his reverie. “It’s time to fight the real enemy here.”

He shifted his focus to the other two; Albus Dumbledore’s arm extended for him to take hold. And something about the way those words had rolled off of Draco’s tongue, so firm and resolute and brand new... it sparked a fire within him.

None of this would have happened in the absence of Lord Voldemort. And now? It was time for revenge. For his parents. For Sirius Black. For Remus Lupin. For himself. And now, perhaps one of the most important factors was... for Draco.

With a narrowed brow and renowned determination, Harry Potter reached his hand forward.

***

There was a slight pull on his navel, as if he was being thrown across another dimension. A dizzying whirl that had Draco grabbing a fistful of his robes with his free hand. And then...nothing. There was a sensation of something flat beneath his feet, and he peeked an eye open hesitantly to view the familiarity of the Headmaster’s office.

His shoulders relaxed; he dropped his hands and turned to Dumbledore for direction.

“Where should we start?”

“Perhaps you should join the other students in the Great Hall. It would, of course, be safer for you that way. To answer your question, however, I believe they have entered from the somewhere on the seventh floor.”

And, with a wink of his eye, Albus Dumbledore was already halfway down the steps toward the exit.

They stood there for a moment, confused by the sudden actions of the Headmaster. Cocking his head, Harry shared a contemplative glance with Draco before he spoke.

“So...seventh floor?”

Draco tipped his jaw forward with expressive determination. “Seventh floor.”

***

When they passed the large gargoyle at the entrance to the office, Dumbledore was nowhere to be found. They glanced up and down the corridor, not a soul in sight, and proceeded to head to the nearest staircase.

“I don’t know if you’re thinking what I’m thinking, but-“

“The Room of Requirement.” Draco finished as they took steps by the few.

Harry couldn’t help but smile slightly at the similarity, pressing forward with vigor.

“But how do you think they got in?”

Draco shook his head, keeping up the pace. “I’m not sure. My best guess is that someone let them in.”

“But who, I wonder...”

Draco shrugged as they planted feet on another floor just before the staircases began to shift.

They shuffled down a nearby corridor to a hidden spiral staircase that Harry had only know about thanks to the Marauder’s Map.

When they stepped onto the seventh floor, things were eerily silent. Harry wasn’t sure what he was expecting: maybe some dueling, or the cries of an injured Death Eater. But all that was heard was the quiet plank of their footsteps.

“Do you have your wand?” Draco whispered, and Harry patted his robes. There it was, stowed safely in his pocket like it had been before the start of detention. He drew it forward, and along with Draco’s own hawthorn they stealthily made their way along the corridor.

“I guess I just thought- I thought there’d be more commotion.” Draco admitted as they rounded a corner, gaining proximity on the Room.

“Yeah, I did too.” They crept forward, almost there, and anticipation slowly began to prickle the crown of Harry’s Head. What would they find when they entered? The Headmaster? The culprit? Voldemort himself?

They approached the large stretch of wall that signaled the entrance to their destination.

Harry readied himself to pace back and forth, contemplating with complete focus on finding the Death Eaters. But as soon as they approached their goal, a large set of wooden doors seemed to appear from thin air. Draco eyed them suspiciously, and Harry couldn’t help but join him.

It was almost as if this was set up, like they were walking head first into something premeditated. A trap.

They shared a worried glance before Harry reached forward and grasped one of the handles, bracing himself before throwing it downward and flinging the door open.

What happened next, he never would have saw coming.

They entered the Room of Hidden Things as it had appeared in the past: piles of random belongings, stacks of newspapers and brooms and a plethora of items that had once belonged to past Hogwarts students. There were mannequins and dust covered bookshelves that held knowledge amongst their pages; cob webs adorning old sets of robes and trunks with additional treasures inside.

In the center of their field of vision, looming ahead with a newfound sense of dread in its wake was a cabinet. Its Wood was dark, almost cherry in essence, and it’s large base was propped by very elegantly carved feet. Draco stared ahead, momentarily distracted by a sudden sense of dejavu that swept over him. Where had he seen it before?

Lined along each side of the pathway leading up to the cabinet were men in dark robes and skull masks. All wands were pointed in their direction, held high with prestige.

Harry gulped. They’d been waiting... for them. It was an ambush. What the fuck could they possibly want?

Dumbledore was nowhere to be found. In fact, they were alone, Wands drawn but highly outnumbered.

Was it Harry they wanted? To finally take him o Voldemort for one final kill? Or was their presence completely accidental, and was it the Headmaster that they awaited?

Why dub Draco the deed if they planned on doing it themselves?

A thousand questions buzzed against Harry’s skull, begging for release but trapped against the overwhelming silence. Draco pointed right; Harry left, but neither moved.

The Death Eaters were propped stoically, as if they were puppets on strings, soldiers waiting for command to fire.

Harry gulped. They were pawns. Like Draco could have been. Like he’d chosen not to be.

An eternity stretched. No one fired a curse. No one twitched. And then...a loud clunk against the closed door of the cabinet.

Harry jumped slightly but kept his focus on the situation at hand. What the fuck was happening?

And then slowly, the door to the cabinet creaked open and revealed the presence of another man adorned in dark robes, but one that lacked the mask to hide his features.

Harry’s heart began to pound, lifting heavily against his chest at the prospect of what impact this might have on the boy beside him. Because this was no memory. Here, in the present, strolling forward with a smirk that could kill was none other than Lucius Malfoy in the flesh.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” he commented crudely, gazing almost humorously in their direction.

“My son, standing defensively next to Harry Potter. I never thought I’d see the day. But, then again, I was wrong.”

He continued to come closer, halfway now between them and the cabinet from which he stepped through. Suddenly, Draco gasped from beside Harry.

“That cabinet. There’s one just like it in Borgin and Burke’s. I’ve seen it before; it’s a vanishing cabinet. That’s how they’ve gotten in!”

“Quite the deducer, now aren’t we? It’s a shame that you weren’t the one behind this extravaganza.” Lucius curled his lip, disgusted at what he somehow had found out about his son.

“Who let you in, father? Who arranged for this?”

Draco held his wand forward, unwavering. Harry stood wordlessly but beamed at the undying determination of the boy next to him. There was absolutely no doubt about any of this now.

“You haven’t cracked that one yet?” He smirked, the white of his teeth gleaming wickedly against a taut upper lip.

He paused, but Draco didn’t reply. And then, he turned to his right.

“Theodore, you can come out now.” From behind the cabinet stepped the fellow Slytherin, wand by his side as he came to the forefront.

He wore an almost blank expression that lacked any remorse. Draco’s mouth dropped.

“Nott, you’ve got to be kidding me. What were you thinking?”

His eyes narrowed before he opened his mouth.

“I know about you, Draco. I know all about your traitor status; your own personal betrayal to both your family and mine.”

Draco stood silently while he continued.

“You didn’t know it, but I was there. I was in the compartment behind you on the train this year. I heard about your loyalty to the Dark Lord. 

I watched you punish Potter for eavesdropping. 

And then I heard you retract everything while you rode in the carriages to the school. I was closely behind, and you didn’t even notice. I knew that you and your friends were faking your loyalty. And, to be honest, it pissed me off.

The only thing worse than being against our Dark Lord is pretending not to be. You aren’t worthy of the task he’s given to you. Do you know what I would’ve done had he bestowed such an honor upon me?!”

His once cool facade had crumbled into someone desperate and manic with desire. Draco looked at him, really allowed himself to sink into the character of his housemate. The boy he thought was his friend, his fellow snake.

All at once, he saw the face of Peter Pettigrew. The boy who longed for a taste of power; to feel like he was someone worth something. The insanity of his values and morals allowed him to vacate any possibility of friendship. He would betray anyone who came between him and the Dark Lord’s favor.

He felt both chillingly irate and sorry for him.

“I saw Potter throw punches at you. I followed and heard you and Pansy talking in the infirmary. I knew that you had some kind of... feelings for him or something. And that was all I needed to know to go forward with my own plan.”

“And what exactly is that, Theo? What are you planning to do?” Draco pressed for information, wand held steady.

“It’s easy, isn’t it? Turn you in. Hand you and Potter over to the Dark Lord. Kill Dumbledore myself.”

“We won’t let you do that.” Harry chimed confidently, completely sideswiped by the turn of events.

“Oh, so it’s ‘we’ with you two? I always knew Draco was a poof, but harry? I guess I expected more from the Chosen One.” He crossed his arms, wand still held firmly in his hand, and glared at the two with an amused smirk. He was far too confident, even if he was surrounded by armed members of their clan.

“Stupefy!” Harry yelled, rash and almost ravenous for revenge. Insulting himself was one thing, but Draco? He felt a beast rise within that could no longer be contained. He would not stand for this.

At once, Theo flew backward against the surface of the cabinet, hitting his head and losing consciousness on the way down. He almost expected sparks to fly, curses firing in every direction with a chaos that only he could be blamed for beginning.

But, what happened next was almost worse. No one moved a muscle. They remained the target of a room full of Death Eaters, Wands pointed diligently and without hesitation.

Lucius Malfoy laughed. He fucking laughed. Draco was subtly shaking next to him, hand nervous but steady. And his father was laughing.

“Do you think that cursing your little friend is going to solve your problems?” He gawked. And then, settling into something more serious: “He is nothing but a player in my game.”

Draco’s eyes widened with sudden enlightenment. A further understanding of what he already knew.

“Confringo!” He called, throwing his wand forward with a force Harry had never seen him use in duel before.

Lucius blocked his unexpected curse with a last minute shield charm that did little to hide his shock. He quickly composed his features, which morphed into something much more irate.

“You little imbecile! I raised you better than this. You are no son of mine. You can keep that thought with you as you await your own personal punishment once I turn you over to the Dark Lord.”

He straightened, and for a moment all was silent. The next word from his lips was the credit to all chaos: “Fire.”

At once, a rainbow of sparks were cast in their direction from each and every Death Eater in the room. Draco instinctively placed a hand on Harry’s back and led them into a duck while Harry performed his strongest “Protego” as of yet.

It held, but not for long, and the shield was visibly shaking as Draco shot curses from around it. He hit one, no, two, Death Eaters and Harry silently beamed at what a grand team they made. If only they’d been able to see it sooner, how different would things have been...

Draco shot another curse from around the clear magical bubble that separated them from sure injury or death. But it was weakening, and Harry gritted his teeth with determination as Lucius Malfoy forced stronger curses in their direction.

It was one of his own silent spells that broke Harry’s defense, and within microseconds both boys were on the ground. They didn’t appear to be wounded severely; the aftermath of the shield must have deflected some of the power from each curse.

Breathing heavily, Harry rolled onto his side and tried to push himself up from the ground. Draco was gripping his wand, already attempting to return to combat.

It was pathetic at best, and they were highly outnumbered. The wicked grin on Malfoy’s face was enough to make any witch or wizard’s skin crawl.

Draco’s raspy “Expulso” was weak and blocked easily by the nearest enemy. The pain that radiated down his spine was almost unbearable, but he refused to give in. Not when he was so inevitably close to standing his ground.

Draco Malfoy slowly lifted himself from the ground, a bit wobbly but secure. He blocked each spell weakly but successfully.

He came to a standing position, statuesque in his determination to see his father, and consequently his past, falter.

That wicked grin was still in place as Malfoy gestured for the rest of the men to hold fire. And then, before Draco could react, he pointed his wand at Harry.

Draco didn’t hear the spell over his own shriek. He instantly threw his arms to try to place himself between the two... but he was too late. Harry, who’d barely made it off the ground, was out cold.

His body was motionless, a lifeless casualty in a room full of madness. Draco’s unhinging despair was matched only by the sudden anger coursing through his veins. He turned forward, ready to take them all out, every last one of them, when the door behind them flew open.


	18. Chapter 18

Harry was floating. No, sinking? Either way, it was a tranquil bliss that he had never met before. His arms were featherlight as he waved them about, like he was making some kind of snow angel. Like he was nothing more than an innocent.

The world around him was dark, but he didn’t mind. Nothing could bother him here. Not in this dream, or reality, or whatever it was...

His mind was empty as his body surfed the waves of peacefulness, a prickly but soothing feeling washing over his skin.

He smiled; that tickled a little. And then...

It was like a movie. It played before him, perhaps in his mind’s eye, and it was all that he could focus on. Like a beacon in the darkness; an outlet for the wiring in his brain.

He was a baby, couldn’t have been one yet. And he heard voices, beautiful voices. Voices that he had come to know just recently within the pensieve...

His mother approached him, and he cooed. It was the finest of greetings, and she scooped him up in her arms. Behind her shoulder was the rounded spectacles of James Potter, positively beaming.

What a happy memory.

Is that what this was?

The picture faded into another, edges blurry and spilling over like ink or some type of water colors. Like a painting, beautiful... so bright and absolutely delightful...

Before him was the face of Sirius Black, partnered by none other than Remus Lupin. They were younger, likely a few years out of school. He was moving toward them, crawling. He wanted to see them, be held by them, to grab onto their attention and never let go.

They were family.

“Look at him, Rem,” Sirius was positively glowing. “He’s like a little James Junior!”

Remus chuckled. “Unfortunately, I believe you’re right. Let’s pray that he gets his personality from Lily.”

Chuckles in the background; a smug and satisfied giggle from his mother. Harry was grinning, wide mouth and no teeth. It was utter perfection, like nothing could go wrong in the world.

The edges of such utopia began to fade into the darkest of charcoals, scratching closer and closer to the image’s center. Harry squinted, straining to see the smiling faces before him. He didn’t want them to leave, but they were fading rapidly, clouded by the chalky black substance that was his mind moving to another place, another time.

He whimpered softly, uncontrollably as they disappeared and were replaced again by darkness.

This time, however, he could make out faint shapes. The ceiling of a room. A mobile that was spelled to spin calmly above his head.

And suddenly, his mother was running into the room. The lights flashed on. She was frantic and lifted him from his crib in a way that both frightened and concerned Harry. She was rocking him, crying, attempting to calm them and whispering sweet things in his ear.

“I love you, Harry. I love you, so, so much.”

Her words were like a lullaby, a song that would come to be his favorite. A tune he would treasure forever.

And then the door crashed open, and Harry couldn’t see. He was shielded by his mother, wrapped snug against her chest away from the man that appeared to be barging in with his wand held high.

There were screams, terrible, horrifying screams. And then... nothing.

The world had turned to darkness again.

***

Adrenaline was sparking through every nerve in Draco Malfoy’s rigid body. The world was cast in an odd shade of yellow, like he was in shock or something. Time seemed to slow indefinitely. Beside him, Harry was motionless. This ached more than he could’ve ever known, but it was a dull throb that hadn’t really set in yet.

The anger was what masked the sadness, and the determination to seek revenge kept him on his feet.

When the door swung open behind them, all faces focused on the intrusion. Rushing in with wands readied was a group led by none other than Dumbledore himself.

The bearded man stepped forward, revealing a scowling Severus Snape entering beside him. Pushing through to commence the action were two figures that Draco immediately recognized.

“Draco, darling, are you alright?” Pansy blurted, expression resolute and wand held high. Draco nodded once, a thankful warmth spreading from his core.

“Glad to hear it.” Blaise smiled, but quickly turned his attention to the lifeless figure of Harry Potter.

Before he could react, Lucius Malfoy was already running his mouth.

“Ah, come to join the party, I see?” A haughty and detestable glint reflected off each iris as he folded his arms behind him and began to pace. “Severus, why don’t you come hither to your own side?” He cocked his head, challenging his Godfather. Like he knew something no one else did.

“You know I can’t do that, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco’s heart skipped a sunken beat, trying to absorb every moment through the yellow haze that was currently his world. What in the actual fuck had he just heard?

Pansy bore her own wicked grin, a satisfied contribution to a stunning surprise.

“Are you admitting to a switch in allegiances, Severus?”

“I am admitting to a reluctance from your insanity.” He responded curtly, never lowering his wand.

That warm feeling threaded through Draco’s hands and feet. Because he knew, even in his godfathers short and abrupt language, that it was true.

He stood by Dumbledore. He stood by Harry. He stood by... by Draco.

Blaise leaned inward and was whispering something to Pansy. She nodded and slowly began inching her way to the boy on the ground, just enough to remain unnoticed.

“Well, if you’re not with me, you’re against me. And the Dark Lord,” Lucius spat and unfolded his hands rapidly to resume a combative stance.

He spun his wand in a quick circular motion around his head, wielding a large blue light in the direction of Snape. It was immediately blocked by the Slytherin head of house. Dumbledore raised his wand in the air, pointing it at the ceiling and gathering power for his next spell.

Death Eaters began firing curses left and right.

Pansy seized her opportunity to approach Potter.

Draco remained frozen to the spot, wondering when the hell the world had turned upside down.


	19. Chapter 19

Harry was on a train. The Hogwarts Express, to be specific. He was alone, and nervous, until the door to the compartment slid open to reveal a redhead just about his age. This was the day he’d met his best friends.

He smiled, reflecting on the recollection before him. Ron Weasley was just as gangly as ever and hadn’t changed too much since their first encounter.

Hermione had grown a bit more since she’d stumbled into the compartment, showing off her recently discovered ability to do magic. Harry shook his head at how young they were with a silly grin. How much had changed, how many things had happened since then...

The train chugged busily from view as the memory came to a close. He patiently awaited for what was to come next.

***

Harry could almost feel the wind whipping against his face. The freedom permeating the air, the openness of the expanding horizon.

He was riding Buckbeak, flying across the castle grounds in the most liberating of feats. It was a happy memory, one that could easily create a patronus. Harry was high, both in spirit and in elevation. He’d never felt this way before. Would he ever feel it again?

Skylines morphed into the Gryffindor common room. Harry was hoisted into the air by his housemates, a celebratory gesture to the golden egg in his hand. This was the day he’d completed the first task of the triwizard tournament. What a gleeful memory, grin plastered across his face as his friends applauded his success.

It seemed that life hadn’t been so bad after all, he concluded, a light and feathery attribution to his observances. There were plenty of moments worth living for, lots of smiles and celebratory wins.

But there was something missing, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on what that was.

It appeared that life got darker at this point.

***

Cedric’s Death was almost unbearable to watch again. His lifeless, cold eyes seemed to stare straight into Harry, who cried as the words “Kill the Spare” echoed through his mind.

He wasn’t floating anymore. He was sinking. Drowning. Anchored by the reverberations of depression that coursed familiarly through his veins. He’d almost forgotten, but he never would truly be able to lose this feeling...

And then he was standing in the Department of Mysteries, and there was an archway ahead. His stomach dropped as he painfully remembered what had happened here...

Sirius Black, falling through the other side. Losing him forever. Feeling like he had no one left in the world.

The summer between fifth year and sixth. Sitting alone at the Dursleys. Hating himself for how he felt. Wishing he could be anywhere but where he was.

Missing something. Needing something. Barely hanging on. Clinging to the idea of his friends for support.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Was he dying? Or was re-living his worst memories going to kill him first?

Harry wept. He didn’t know why. All of the emotions he felt, every one of them was far too real to be a dream...

And then, the world stopped. It was as if he was frozen in place, each tentacle of moroseness loosening it’s hold on him. Slowly, he was released. The knot in his stomach unraveled. He felt empty, but whole.

He wasn’t drowning, or floating, but was suspended somewhere between the two. It wasn’t bliss, but it was far more tolerable than despair.

And then... a face. He was sitting across the Great Hall, picking at his food as he scraped his plate mindlessly. His eyes were downward, but his focus was clearly elsewhere. His cheek rested in a bent palm that was suspended by an elbow propped impolitely on the table.

It was Draco, and he was suffering. How had Harry not known? Or perhaps, had he not cared enough at the time to even notice?

Harry recalled all that Draco had been through and suddenly felt a longing urge to go back in time. To stalk across the Great Hall, grab him by the robes, and kiss him. And let him know that in due time, everything was going to be ok.

Instead, Draco Malfoy stabbed at his dinner but did not eat. And Harry felt a pang of regret stab through the emptiness.

A whirlwind of colors led Harry to the Gryffindor common room. It was a Saturday, and he was perched on the couch next to Ginny. Harry slid a forced arm around her, an expected gesture for their ongoing relationship.

This time, however, instead of remaining solid against him, she shrugged away.

“What is it, Ginny?” He asked innocently, though he should have known.

“Harry, what are we doing? I mean honestly,” she crossed her legs and arms, perturbed.

“I don’t understand,” Harry said dumbly, turning to face her.

“I mean, together. It’s clear you don’t love me in the way you’re pretending to. And that’s okay, Harry. But we have to be true to ourselves.”

“What do you mean, Ginny? Of course I do.”

“Please, Harry. I know what it’s like to have feelings for someone. Very real, intense feelings. And this just... isn’t it. You know it. I know it. You and me are just... better as friends.”

“Do you really think so?”

Ginny gazed into his eyes, but it was not full of malice, but sympathy.

“Yes. We deserve to be happy, Harry. Even if it’s not with each other.”

“But... I love you, Gin. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I know.” She pulled him into a warm embrace. “And you won’t. We’ll continue to be friends like we always have been.”

“Can you promise me that?”

“Yes.”

He squeezed her back, and he wasn’t sure at the time why some part of him felt relief. Like some kind of invisible pieces were falling into place.

In the emptiness, he felt the sudden solidity of friendship.

The common room twisted and comforted into a starry night sky. Two boys at the rail, gazing forward after a long day of detention.

The expression on Draco’s face was hopeful. He was talking about becoming a potions master. About following his own dreams.

Harry’s stomach was overcome by the soft fluttering wings of butterflies. And suddenly he wasn’t so empty anymore.

The night sky blended into oranges and pinks as the sun rose over the horizon. He was on the ground, a familiar presence weighted against his chest.

Draco’s soft snoring sending hot breath across his skin and a shudder down his spine.

It tickled, and the memory brought a wide smile to his face. This. This was it. The missing link, the emptiness. It was all life without Draco.

He was floating again.

All at once, the images of his memory began to flash in rapid succession across his mind’s eye. Detention. The pensieve. Draco disappearing. Harry searching, and searching...

Finding Draco in his memories. Tears and laughter. Discovering that Draco was merely an equal and opposite reaction to his own existence. Still searching, desperately to find him...

Falling in love. Knowing that the boy before him was good and wholesome. Having faith in someone like he’d never had before. Wanting to keep him forever.

Finding himself in a subconscious that did not belong to him. Watching Draco Malfoy face every last one of his demons.

Watching him profess his own feelings with the touch of his lips. They were fire, and Harry’s world was ablaze. There was no going back. Not now, not ever.

Promises made from those lips. The soft caress of interwoven fingers.

Dumbledore alerting them that there was trouble in the castle. Death Eaters- oh, Merlin... death Eaters.

Harry was still floating, until he felt his feet uncomfortably slam against the floor. He glanced around. It wasn’t dark, there were no happy memories playing like a movie for old time’s sake. Just rows and rows of shelves, all lined with crystal white orbs...

Harry blinked confusedly. He’d been here before. Was this the Department of Mysteries? Or was it...

A figure looked ahead, adorned in black robes that trailed the ground behind it. Harry stepped forward curiously, but when he closed the distance between them he realized much too late that it was no person at all.

It was Lord Voldemort himself, eyeing him hungrily behind crimson pupils.

“Well, if it isn’t he famous Harry Potter,” he mocked, and Harry’s knees trembled slightly. This wasn’t how he remembered this going. What was happening?

Voldemort grinned a nasty, toothy smile, and Harry gulped. He patted his pockets for his wand, but... he didn’t have it. Where the fuck was it?

“Have you forgotten? I suppose the idea may have slipped through your consciousness and landed around here somewhere.” His smile remained plastered against his serpentlike features. Harry stood his ground, perhaps stupidly, refusing to stand down.

“What idea? What are you talking about?”

“When I fired the killing curse at you that evening, and I was temporarily overcome by the magnificent Harry Potter... the curse rebounded. And in that moment, a piece of me... belonged to you.”

He cocked his head, waiting for Harry to catch on.

“And now I live within your subconscious. The one whispering all of the bad thoughts into your skull. Encouraging the connection between us with every nightmare, every sorrow, every encounter.”

Harry glanced around, suddenly piecing thoughts together and linking each idea into a very long and complicated train... he pointed a finger forward, reminiscent.

“You’re the darkness in me. You are the representation of my downfall. You were Draco’s father in his subconscious, but for me... you’re Voldemort.”

Wicked grin still in place, he laughed and clapped his hands together.  
“Very good, Harry! You’re not as dense as you appear sometimes, I’m afraid.”

“You still haven’t told me WHY I’m here. Did I get lost in a memory like Draco?”

Another laugh.

“Do you recall the prophecy that Albus Dumbledore revealed to you after your little soirée in the Department of Mysteries?”

Harry blinked. “Yes- it said something about the one who is able to defeat you- Voldemort- being born in July. And that neither could live...”

“...while the other survives.” He finished, eyes malicious and unyielding. Harry blinked comprehensively. When he failed to draw the necessary conclusion, he got angry.

“Yes, I’ve heard the prophecy. Now why am I here?!”

“Think hard about what you’ve learned of this place. When do people come here?”

Harry thought back to Lucius Malfoy, standing proud in similar fashion to the monster before him.

“That moment in death when your life flashes before your eyes? That’s when you come here.” The voice of Draco’s subconscious echoed in a strange form of memory.

Harry’s mouth dropped, gears turning and working and putting together conclusions that he’d yet to draw.

“I-I’m dying. My life, it flashed- I’m dying.” He stuttered, and suddenly the air was heavy and thick like fog. Images of Death Eaters, and Draco, and sparks flying in his direction...

Voldemort smiled. “Yes, the grand Harry Potter is about to be extinguished. And in your death, only then can I truly... survive.”

“But if I’m dead, then that makes you dead, too!”

“Ah, normally, I would agree with you. But can’t you see? Lord Voldemort has power beyond your deepest imagination. He will only truly live when you die. And I am here to further that cause.”

“No! I won’t let you win!” Harry yelled passionately, unable to provide the means for his success but standing his ground regardless.

“You don’t have a choice, Harry Potter.” His malicious grin turned into a loud laugh that barked in waves that seemed to shake the entire world around them.

Suddenly, Harry was faint. His vision clouded as it faded into pieces of darkness, a Smokey black haze stealing his view. He was woozy, he couldn’t think, couldn’t feel...

He collapsed, breathing heavy and desperate for oxygen. He was rapidly becoming numb, and cold, like ice...

Voldemort was still laughing. It sent chills down his spine and what remained of his senses seemed to freeze in a bout of hypothermia.

This was it, this was the end. There was nothing he could do. There was no Draco to save him...

His head hit the floor, eyelids sunken and heavy. He tried to hold on, but it was difficult, perhaps the hardest thing he’d done thus far...

A whisper. He swore he heard a whisper subtly reach to him from behind the maniacal howl of his own personal Devil.  
It was hard to make out, the syllables rushed together and slurred, but...

He heard it. A soft word, stark against his surroundings.

“Reinervate.”

He squinted, attempting to focus his vision . He had to know who was speaking, who was casting a healing charm...

He saw no body other than the man before him. In the background, however, ever so subtly... a crystal orb broke.

It cracked, and shattered against the floor. And Harry was confused. Why was this happening...

Another. And another. Rows and rows of orbs were beginning to spontaneously combust into shards.

Again, he heard it. “Reinervate.”

The world began to vibrate, an earthquake against the plane of his own mind. A shelf toppled over. More memories, breaking on the floor.

Voldemort’s smug grin had melted into confusion and shock as he turned to view damage. 

Like dominos, the shelves began to fall...

“Reinervate.”

He heard it again. Voldemort’s confusion turned to anger as understanding washed over him.

“No! This is not how this works! Harry Potter is mine!” He screamed,but Harry remained motionless. The air was still heavy, he couldn’t move...

The destruction rang closer and orbs were falling every which way. Shards of crystal landed by Harry’s face. It was suddenly, all so real...

A memory, broken against the floor, close enough that he was able to experience it. Images flashed in his mind’s eye, like a movie playing against the backdrop of his vision loss.

Draco Malfoy, pulling himself to a standing position in the Room of Requirement. Defying any and all thoughts of failure. Wounded by a curse from his own father, but gathering himself regardless. Standing strong, against all odds.

He needed to be strong, too. For him. So, even as the world faded, much too dark this time, and he heard one last spoken “Reinervate...” he vowed to hold on with everything he had.


	20. Chapter 20

When Dumbledore pointed his wand forward and released all of the power he had drawn, the reactionary light was so bright that Draco had to shield his eyes.

His magic resonated a bluish-white hue that emanated outward and twisted through the air towards its target.

Draco had never seen a spell so powerful that wasn’t dark. It hit each of the Death Eaters with a force that threw them backwards several feet.

In the midst of their falter, Severus Snape lurched forward and began firing several other curses to continue the debilitation is the masked men. One of the Death Eaters from the far right managed to pull himself upward and cast a hex in Snape’s direction, but this was rapidly blocked by a very keen Blaise Zabini.

Draco reveled in their combat, pointing his own wand in his fight for freedom.

Directly in front of him, his father rose and stepped forward. This was his opportunity, the moment just before his father would regain full capacity.

He seized it ruthlessly.

“Expelliarmus!” He called, and as if things couldn’t get simpler... his father became disarmed.

As the chaos spread like wildfire around them, Draco raced forward with his wand guiding every step, pulling him toward the man that had let him down one too many times.

Snape, Zabini, and Dumbledore continued to attack while Pansy remained crouched beside Potter.

She was muttering healing charms, simple spells that shouldn’t have had a large impact on someone who’d been cursed like Harry. What tipped the scales was the small vial she retrieved from her pocket, it’s amber colored liquid glinting against the light of the Room.

She tipped the bottle upward, placing a single drop on her tongue that dissolved as rapidly as it landed. She continued by placing another drop in between Potter’s lips. This was risky, and honestly Pansy had no idea if it would work. But she also knew it was her only chance to save him.

***

When Draco approached his unarmed opponent, the rest of the room was highly preoccupied. He rushed forward and came to an abrupt halt, Wand pointed inches from his father’s face.

For a split second, an emotion Draco had never witnessed form the man before him overtook his features: fear.

He quickly composed himself, expression changing into something more manipulative.

“You don’t have the guts to kill me,” he spat as the war continued all around them.

Draco didn’t reply, but his wand held firmly in place. Lucius’s lips upturned into a devilish smile.

“See? I’d like to watch you try. You always were weak.”

Draco was sure his hands were shaking. A plethora of emotions were welling from within his gut, hollow and dry as they trickled throughout the rest of his system. He was angry. Afraid. Nervous. Sick.

And suddenly, in the heat of the moment, a revelation crossed over him like a shooting comet in the night sky. He felt a ton of things, but none of those was free.

Even in this situation, where he clearly held the advantage, he was a prisoner of his father.

He refused to let this be the end. His brow narrowed, he gripped his hawthorn tightly and focused more energy than he’d ever thrown into a spell before into the one he was preparing now.

His teeth were still bared, square beneath his lips. Lucius Malfoy’s grin dripped with a poison that could kill, a poison that Draco refused to let seep into his system.

He could kill his father. He was strong enough. He was angry enough. He had every intention of putting him in the place he’d been held at himself for too many years.

Harry’s face flashed through his mind. It wasn’t motionless, like he’d last seen it, but warm and full of veracity and... and happy. His cheeks were rosy, like he’d just finished blushing or being a sap. He was beautiful, and his presence changed everything.

Draco took a deep inspiration as every last thing seemed to come to a head. There he was, the world at his fingertips. Revenge, dancing before him like the prize he’d finally been privileged to. A chance at redemption. At freedom.

It was a prospect he couldn’t pass up, regardless of doubt or fear. And so, with guts he hadn’t known he possessed, he spoke the spell that would come to change everything.


	21. Chapter 21

Darkness was illuminated by a hodge podge of blurry shapes and lines as Harry’s eyelids slowly separated. There were noises, but they were as difficult to identify as the array of blended colors before him. Muffled chaos filled his ears; it was clear that something violent was occurring around him. Even if he couldn’t quite make out what it was.

Shadows merged to form the familiar shape of a girl, and even in the blur Harry could recognize that form. She was Draco’s best friend, the support he’d needed through everything. But why was she in front of him? Almost... above him?

Pansy Parkinson’s figure seemed to pulsate, focus fluctuating in and out in a pattern that almost made Harry sick as the world began to come into view.

She was smiling, lips pulled upward in a way that accentuated the dark maroon of her lipstick. It was a satisfied simper, like she’d accomplished something worthwhile. This was further solicited by a twinkle in her eyes that he’d only recognized from a memory that was not his own.

“Harry,” She called. But his name sounded foreign, like it had never belonged to him. He tried to respond, but his voice was lost somewhere in the craze. He stared at her, squinting as her image finally quit swaying.

“Harry, can you hear me, dear?” She pressed, and Harry lifted his head toward her voice. He wanted to thank her, felt compelled to on some level... but he wasn’t sure why. He managed to nod, head still fuzzy as it shook through the motion.

“Excellent. How are you feeling?”

He nodded again, still woozy but coming to by the second. The loud crack of spells being cast was suddenly magnified as his hearing restored. He gasped, glancing around and suddenly remembering where the hell he was.

“Pansy,” he managed to speak, raspy and weak but capable. “Where’s-“

“He’ll be fine, love. Let’s get you standing.” Pansy looped her arms through his axillary region and hoisted him upward. Harry blinked. He was standing on two feet, and he wasn’t dizzy at all. Something wasn’t right, though it was clearly an advantage. He shouldn’t be so capable, not when... not when he’d just been...

Cursed. That was it. He’d been cursed by-

“Incarcerous!”

Draco’s cry was loud and unforgiving against a world of Death Eaters vs. the rest of them.

Instantly, Lucius Malfoy was bound and completely debilitated as he hit the floor below him. He writhed and wriggled against the magical restraints burning orange-yellow on his wrists and ankles. Draco had never performed a binding spell so effective, so strong. So full of passion and intent.

There was no pulling out of this spell, no manipulation tactics that could break the hold on his limbs. Draco Malfoy had- against all odds- overpowered his father. His face held a mixture of exasperation and disbelief, feeling drained and yet the most alive he’d ever been.

Lucius Malfoy snarled and gritted his teeth against his loss as his body twisted violently for escape.

“You’ll regret not killing me when I break loose!” He spat angrily, but Draco only crossed his arms, nonchalant.

Feeling the victory flood his being, his lips pulled into a winner’s smirk.

“You know, you’d have to actually get out of those restraints first.” He watched as his father continued to wiggle, lacking a witty response as he fought unsuccessfully to beak free.

In the background, Professor Snape and Blaise Zabini were casting similar binding spells on the rest of the men.

Harry watched with his mouth agape, feet glued to his spot next to Pansy.

“He did it,” she observed with poise. Harry felt his lips pull into an uncontrollable grin as her words seeped into his suddenly alert thoughts.

“I never expected anything less.” He added, and Draco suddenly pivoted at the sound of his voice. His expression was flabbergasted, frozen in disbelief as he eyed him up and down. And, As if he’d come to an unspoken conclusion that even if he was hallucinating, he didn’t care, Draco lurched forward and sprinted toward them.

He flung himself onto Harry, pulling him into an embrace that was much too tight but only resulted in Harry gripping him further.

The moment was endless, accompanied by a satisfied smirk from Pansy and a knowing twinkle in Dumbledore’s eye.

In the next few seconds, he’d conjured a Patronus that flitted gracefully from the room to deliver a message.

Harry and Draco separated, smiling and stuck in the giddy whirl of all that had happened. There were no words, but that was okay. They didn’t need them.

Green eyes held grey as Dumbledore brought them back to reality. “I’ve notified the Ministry of tonight’s happenings. The aurors should be here shortly.”

Harry studied the scene before them. The floor was covered in bound members of Voldemort’s Army. Some were still struggling, cursing their names, while others had given up entirely and lay motionless. It was the scene of a winning team; a team whose members had come to their own. A team led by Draco Malfoy, the boy who’d risked everything for redemption.

The focus of everyone was diverted by the sound of the door flying open.

“Harry! Thank God You’re Alright!” The worried exclamation of Hermione pierced the atmosphere as she rushed to hug him. Beside her, Ron scrambled to make it to his side. Confused but grateful, Harry held on tightly until she retracted.

“Are you hurt? We came as fast as we could.” Her brow was creased, not a hundred percent satisfied of his wellbeing.

“I think they’ve pretty much got it wrapped, Hermione.” Ron concluded, peering about at the bodies scattered on the floor.

Harry shared a smile with Ron, whose understanding nod was enough to make him burst with relief. His friends were here, and they were safe. They’d defeated the Death Eaters, for now. Draco had won them a solid victory. The Slytherins had arrived in the nick of time. Everything seemed to happen with purpose, pieces falling fatefully into place.

Suddenly, the door flung open once more to reveal the presence of Kingsley Shacklebolt amongst several other aurors who’d arrived after receiving Dumbledore’s message.

They stepped in formally, approaching the center of the room with their wands drawn.

“We received your patronus, Albus,” Shacklebolt declared. “Mighty Fine job rounding these up for us.”

The others began levitating the prisoners and dragging their squirming figures from the room.

“It was a team effort. I owe much appreciation to young Mr. Malfoy here for confronting their leader.”

Draco’s mouth dropped at the unexpected compliment. Kingsley turned, arms folded to give Draco a once over. After drawing his own thoughts and conclusions, he smiled softly.

“Nicely done, Mr. Malfoy.”

And with that, the ultimate compliment of respect that had Draco’s cheeks burning with excitement, he turned to collect the others.

“Harry, I don’t understand.” Hermione pressed, hungry for answers. “What happened?”

She shared a puzzled glance with Ron, who was busy giving Malfoy his own once over.

“Well, Draco and I were in detention, and Dumbledore came and got us...”

Blaise approached just then, joining their group as they all tried to piece together the night’s events.

“He told us about the Death Eaters,” Draco finished, meeting eyes with Potter before continuing. “And we came here.”

“They were waiting for us,” Harry added. “We were ambushed.”

“Since when did you two start finishing each other’s sentences?” Ron blurted, genuinely curious but, as always, lacking tact.

Surprisingly, Harry smiled. It felt good, being... associated with Draco. Sensing his emotion, Draco laughed in response.

“Since yesterday, apparently.” He answered, chuckling to himself. Pansy flashed them a knowing glance that didn’t go past Hermione. She eyed them curiously before continuing.

“When McGonagall started rounding up the students, we knew something wasn’t right. We tried to come find you. And, when you weren’t in the Headmaster’s office, it became sort of a guessing game.” Ron nodded, continuing the story.

“We looked everywhere, mate. The Astronomy Tower. The infirmary. Hell, we even checked the library!” Harry chuckled at his exuberance.

“And then, Hermione thought about the Room and... well, here we are. I’m sorry we missed out on all the action.”

“Though it seems as if you were well taken care of.” Hermione finished, eyeing the Slytherins thankfully. “I’m thoroughly confused, I must admit, but any friend of Harry’s is a friend of ours.”

Pansy raised her brows with a smile. “Well, Blaisey, it seems we’ve won over the Gryffindors, have we?”

Her tone was facetious, but the light in her eyes suggested all was in good humor. Draco appeared unexpectedly grateful for Hermione’s acceptance.

“Pansy,” Harry introduced, contemplating the events with a thousand questions in mind.

“When I woke up, you were there. You saved me. I heard your voice when... when I was unconscious. You were using healing charms. But... no offense... they shouldn’t have healed me from that dark of a curse. How exactly did you wake me up?”

Pansy giggled. “Of course they wouldn’t have, silly. I’m no healer. I must admit, I did cheat a little bit. Blaise and I have our own story as to how we ended up here.” She turned to the fellow Slytherin, who readied himself to tell the story.

“Snape tipped us off that the Death Eaters had intruded. When Theo was nowhere to be found, we put two and two together.” He shared a knowing glance with Pansy. “While He was sending the rest of Slytherin to meet McGonnagal in the Great Hall, we went looking for you.”

Pansy continued to story. “Blaise’s disillusionment charms are amazing, really. We were able to sneak into the Gryffindor common room as everyone was shuffling out. The spell even tricked your bloody stairs into letting me enter the dorm.” She winked. “We just sort of figured that after spending so much time together that if Harry was there... Draco would be, too.” She cast a glance between Ron and Hermione, who seemed to be absorbing all of the information.

“Obviously, the dorm was empty. But- and this is the part where my morals slipped- I had an idea. I remembered that day, in Slughorn’s, when you won the Felix Felicis. And, call it a girl’s intuition... I thought it might come in handy.”

“But how did you-“ Harry blurted, and Pansy eyed him humorously.

“Please, Potter. A sock in your trunk? Pathetically easy.” She simpered playfully. “And then we met Snape and headed here. It turns out he has a lot more in common with us than I had initially presumed.”

“You’re far more clever than I’ve ever given you credit for, Pansy.” Hermione admired as she listened to each detail keenly.

“Thanks, Granger. You’re not so bad yourself.” What a moment that seemed to resonate, uncanny friendships blossoming in the midst of war.

“But what does that have to do with what woke me?” Harry interjected, and Draco shook his head playfully at how cute his ignorance was. Everyone else had figured it out, except him.

“Yeah, how did you save him?” Ron added, and Draco chuckled softly. No wonder they were best friends

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hermione rolled her eyes. “She healed Harry by using the Liquid Luck. After consuming Felix Felicis, everything you attempt is more likely to succeed.”

“Oh.” Ron and Harry spoke simultaneously.

“Thank you, Pansy. You saved my life.” Harry extended a hand outward, and Pansy reached forward to shake it.

“I suppose you want this back?” She asked, retrieving the vial from within her pocket.

Harry shook his head. “Nah, go ahead and keep it. I’ve got as much luck as I need.” He eyed Draco with a sideways glance, a soft blush tinting his cheeks.

“Weasley,” Blaise turned to the redhead. “I’ve seen you play chess, and it is bloody brilliant, if I do say so myself. Care to match me at some point?”

Ron grinned, up for the challenge. “You know it. Don’t expect to walk away without your arse handed to you, though.”

The group broke into a guffaw, and as things settled between them, the last of the Death Eaters were removed from the Room.

“Draco, you just wait until I get out of here! You better hope I don’t see your face again!” The irate snap of the Elder Malfoy broke the tranquil mood of the gang as he passed by, levitated by Shacklebolt himself.

Draco watched as he trailed out the door, his throat suddenly choked with a lack of words.

“Save it for trial, Malfoy.” Kingsley silenced his father with a respectful meet of his eyes with Draco’s. It was a solid and genuine gesture that reminded him of all he’d done right.

“I assume there will be no more disillusionment charms or tomfoolery tonight.” Professor Snape raised a brow as he passed them, but there was something considerably less contemptible about his tone. There was no smile, or pat on the back, but somehow Harry knew that something between them was different. Snape, and Harry, and Draco... they were all fighting for the same thing. And that meant more than words could bear.

Pansy laughed as her head of House exited. Draco noticed from the corner of his eye that Dumbledore was finishing up a conversation with one of the aurors.

He brushed his hand against Harry’s subtly, signaling for him to follow. Together, they approached the head master. The auror exited, and Dumbledore smiled and clapped his hands together.

“Are you feeling alright, boys?”

“Yes, Professor,” Draco answered humbly. “I was going to ask... Harry and I didn’t finish viewing the memories... let alone sorting them. Should we meet back in your office tomorrow?”

Dumbledore contemplated for a silent moment, glancing between the two as he fingered his floor length beard.

“One of the goals of your detention was to show you both that differences and similarities walk a fine line. I was hoping that through the memories you would learn more about each other, as well as those depicted. Would you say you’ve accomplished this?”

“Yes, sir.” They answered at the same time, smiling sideways at the sentiment.

He grinned, that same twinkle dancing in his eye like it had that morning when they’d arrived to detention, disheveled and panting with excitement and lack of sleep.

“It warms my heart to see enemies becoming friends, and so much more. There is no magic as strong as love, you know.” He tilted his head knowingly.

Draco’s cheeks were scarlet; Harry’s ears a bright crimson.

“With that being said, in conjunction with tonight’s events, I find it not only fair but necessary that you both be released from detention.”

Harry was both relieved and disappointed at the news. He was grateful to have the freedom to do all kinds of things- with Draco specifically- but there was a nagging feeling, sinking in his gut...

“Professor, one more thing,” Draco pressed, curious. “Where did you get the memories that we were taken through?”

Dumbledore smiled. “Why, they were a combination of vials collected from myself, Professor Lupin, and mostly your Godfather, Harry.”

Harry’s mouth dropped. Of course, he should have known that the memories couldn’t have belonged to anyone else. But the news that those memories... belonged specially to Sirius... it awakened a new part of Harry. 

“He left me with his memories in hopes that I could use them. And, when the time was right, I would be able to share them with you.”

The twinkle in his eye only brightened. “Now, they are not only his, but your memories, too. And you can keep them for an eternity.”

The nagging in his gut softened. He felt a hand entangle with his own.

“Well, boys, you’d better be off to get some rest. It’s been a long and eventful evening.” He nodded before walking past them, trailing after Professor Snape.

Hermione motioned for them to come as the others began making way to the door. Harry yawned before holding up a finger, signaling that he’d be there in a moment. Truth be told, he was exhausted.

“Hey, Potter,” Draco drawled as soon as their presence was the only one remaining. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight. Fancy a trip to the astronomy tower?” His eyes were playful, lips teetering a sneer.

“How about we just head to my dorm instead?”

“Yuck, those putrid reds and golds...”

“Oh, shut up.” Harry insulted flippantly, grasping the sides of his head and pulling him insatiably forward for a kiss.

Perhaps it was luck, or the hold of a new memory’s bloom, but this moment was all that they needed to last forever. Just two boys in love, like others before them, growing into exactly who they were meant to be.

***


	22. Epilogue

“You look stunning.”

Draco watched Harry’s reflection enter their bedroom in the large, full body mirror before him.

He smoothed down his tux, smiling at the sap behind him as he whirled around.

“Are you nervous?” Harry asked, placing his hands on either side of Draco’s waist.

“A bit. But only because I’ve never done this before.”

“Well, I have. And let me tell you,” he leaned in, his whisper hot and heavy against the shell of his ear. “You are going to be amazing.”

Draco smiled, exhaling a relaxed breath against the crook of Harry’s neck.

“Of course, how could I forget? My husband winning the Savior of the Wizarding World award a few years ago.”

Harry chuckled at his facetiousness. “Isn’t it nice, Draco?” He pulled back, locking eyes softly. “Where we are in life. No more Voldemort. No more monsters or inner demons. You defeated yours when you faced your father. I conquered mine when Voldemort shot the killing curse at me in the forest. That was years ago. Now, We’ve got a beautiful flat together. You own your own potions shop. And I actually got to stand at the altar and call you mine.”

Draco pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Harry grinned inexplicably wide, a wholesome addition to the excitement of the evening. “You ready?”

Draco nodded, nervous and excited with anticipation. Harry held the door as they exited their London home and prepared to apparate to the night’s latest ministry function.

When they entered the banquet hall, Draco paused to admire the sheer elegance of the decorations and setup.

At the far end of the Hall was a large stage, adorned with floating lanterns and a centralized podium that was decorated with carnations.

The floor level was covered in rounded tables, each of which had fine yellow placards with the names of each assigned seat written in the fanciest of scripts. White table cloths trailed the floor, dancing atop the shoes of each guest.

There were women in ball gowns, men in suits and proper wizard robes. At a table in the forefront sat the familiar figures of Pansy and Hermione.

Pansy’s wave suggested that they join them, and as they headed in their direction Blaise and Ron arrived via floo.

There were handshakes and hugs as they all took a seat, awaiting the ceremony to begin.

Pansy sipped her champagne casually before raising her glass.

“To Draco, darling. For all of the wonderful things you’ve done.”

Chatter and small talk buzzed in the background as the rest of the group eagerly threw up their glasses.

“To Draco.”  
“To Draco.”  
“To Draco.”  
“To Draco.”

They each took their turns praising the blonde, who’d turned a few shades redder than normal.

“Is this the part where I get to drink?” He asked facetiously, a smile pulling at the edges of his lips. There were giggles from the girls and chuckles from the rest as they tipped back each glass.

The lights dimmed as a signal to the start of the ceremony, and Kingsley Shacklebolt made his way to the podium.

“As your Minister of Magic, it pleases me to inform you that a very special award has been voted upon and will be given this evening. This witch or wizard has made leaps and bounds in areas of research and discovery that have already, even early in their development, impacted the lives of many. Their cause has required the utmost dedication and commitment from them, and I have personally witnessed several late nights on their behalf. This person is nothing short of deserving a celebration tonight, and they have my utmost respect. Would the crowd please welcome to the stage Mr. Draco Malfoy.”

Applause rang energetically amongst the crowd; hoops and hollers were sounded from their own table. Draco humbly excused himself, making his way to the stage.

“Mr. Malfoy’s discovery of a new and improved form of Wolfsbane has already been put into practice for many of those suffering from Lycanthropy. It has not only lessened their symptoms, but has allowed several of its victims to become functioning members of society. His craft has revolutionized the idea of Lycanthropy and will only continue to make improvements to not only the individuals directly affected but also to society as a whole. And with that being said, I gladly present to you this personal award on behalf of the Ministry of Magic. Thank you for all that you have done, Mr. Malfoy.” He shook his hand, and Draco smiled brightly before Shacklebolt handed him a golden plaque.

The cheers were deafening; the applause chaotic and exuberant as the crowd lifted into a standing ovation.

The lights beamed, harsh against Draco’s porcelain skin as he smiled into the audience. His eyes, like religion or something equally as practiced, floated to a pair of bright green ones in the front. They met, and it was like electricity all over again.

Like it had been so many years ago when they first fell in love, wrapped up in the memory of the very inspiration for his research. Re-living a love story that was soon to become their own.

And now, now that everything had fallen into place, there was only one thing left to do. He exited the stage, hurriedly making his way back to the table. Without hesitation, he scooped Harry into his arms for a heated and passionate kiss that celebrated everything they’d come through together thus far.

The ovation continued, not hesitating but instead growing even louder.

Harry pulled back, green eyes still vibrant against the dim lighting of the room. “I love you so damn much, Draco. Congratulations.”

“I wouldn’t be here without you, Harry. I love you more than words can entail. You are my past, my present, and my future. And I cannot wait to spend the rest of our lives making memories together.”

Harry’s wordless reply was the violent and heated pull of Draco’s lips back to his. In that moment, and consequently each one forevermore, all was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! If you’re still here reading, I hope you enjoyed this. Thank you for sticking with it. ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> P.s. I’M SUCH A SAP FOR HAPPY ENDINGS


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